


Time upon Once

by lenfaz



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Reversal, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-19
Updated: 2018-03-04
Packaged: 2018-07-25 09:57:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 92,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7528237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lenfaz/pseuds/lenfaz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Killian Jones is a bailbonds man, living in Boston and doing his own thing. But on his 29th birthday, a kid knocks on his door and claims to be his son. What happens when Killian is forced to face his past along with a mystery prophecy about his own purpose in life?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

##### Chapter I

_Boston_

Another day, another skip chased and caught, another meager dollar in his bank account. Killian Jones sighed as he ran his hand through his hair, fumbling slightly with his key before he finally unlocked the door and entered his apartment. He usually loved his place - or at least was quite content with what he’d been able to accomplish in the past decade - but tonight, it felt cold and lugubrious. The silence, the solitude, the generic furniture and lack of personal mementos weighed on him, making his flat resemble a pit stop and not actually a home.

His night hadn’t started on good terms  - he had to chase the asshole who was scamming his family and making online dates on the side - and not even the prospect of a glass of rum and a one night stand in a random stranger’s bed would help chase away the ghosts of his past tonight. So he’d given up on the idea of hitting the bar and headed back home, stopping at an open bakery on his way.

He sighed, kicking off his shoes by the entrance and heading towards the kitchen counter. Placing the brown bag on the kitchen island, he reached to grab a beer from the fridge, opened the bottle and took a long drag of the malt brew. Once he’d swallowed, he put it on the island, a little more forcefully than intended and grabbed the paper bag. Killian took the small cupcake out, carefully put the blue star candle on top of it, and  reached for his lighter - yes, he still smoked from time to time and he kept a pack and a lighter nearby - to lite the candle. The small flame on top of it flickered for a second and he felt himself transported to another place, another time, to the memories he tried to keep chained and hidden in the dungeons of his mind and yet always found a way to emerge. Especially on days like today.

“ _Come on, Hook! We have to celebrate.” she said, her blonde hair up in a ponytail, black rimmed glasses sitting almost at the top of her nose, green eyes shining with promises of a better time to come. “18, Killian. 18!” She all but bounced on the spot._

_“It’s just a number, love.” He shrugged away the attention, a small hint of embarrassment visible in the way the tip of his ears turned pink. He reached to hug her, his arms circling her waist, head bending down so his eyes could still be in contact with hers. “You’ll be that in a few months too.”_

_She reached to move a rebellious strand of hair off of his forehead, her voice soft and full of hope. “And then we’ll both be free to do whatever. To stop running, to do anything.” She pulled away from him and he felt the cold instantly, his body leaning to chase her warmth. But she had turned around and reached for a paper brown bag on the backseat of the car._

_“What’s that?” He asked curiously but she kept silent, her hand pulling him towards the hood. He followed -of course he followed her - and witnessed how she took a small cupcake out of the bag and placed a star candle on top it._

_She turned around, a self-aware smile coming to her face, “I know you don’t have any memories or any traditions for your birthday. But I thought it was time to start some. **Our** traditions.” She reached for his front pocket and he raised an eyebrow mischievously at her. She rolled her eyes as she removed her hand, her fingers playing with his lighter. “Later, birthday boy,” she promised in a husky voice. _

_She flicked the lighter, cursing a few times when the flame blew out in the open air, before she finally lit the candle. She turned around and beamed at him._

_“Make a wish, Killian.”_

_He closed his eyes and made his wish, feeling himself invincible, the entire world at his reach._

_Little did he know, life had decided to show him just how hopeless wishing was for someone like him._

He opened his eyes, bringing himself back from the painful memories that were still haunting him after a decade. He fought against the silent tear that wanted to escape his eye, and he was able to reign himself in. He took a deep breath and he closed his eyes forcefully again and made the same wish he’d made each year.

_Wherever you are, I hope you are ok. Come back to me, Swan._

He blew out the candle, a small sigh coming to his lips. He was taking off the candle and reaching for a cigarette - his actual birthday indulgence more than the cupcake - when a knock on his door stopped him. Killian frowned, placing his pack and lighter on the counter. Padding his way to the door, he slung it open and had to lower his gaze to see who was there.

A little boy stood there. He couldn't be more than nine or ten years old. He had brown hair and hazel eyes, a curious and hopeful look harboring in them.

“Can I help you, lad?” Killian asked, wondering skeptically what a kid like this could be doing alone, knocking on an adult man's door at such hour.

“Are you Killian Jones?” The boy asked, the hint of a smile coming to his face, a soft hint of excitement and apprehension visible in his voice.

Killian nodded, his throat suddenly dry and a strange feeling coming to the pit of his stomach, a sensation that he couldn’t pinpoint.

The boy all but beamed at him, unable to hide his joy, his eyes shining in an oddly familiar way.

“My name is Henry, I’m your son.”


	2. Chapter II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you like this chapter!!!

_“My name is Henry, I’m your son.”_

Before Killian was even able to recover from the news, the kid had moved fast and ducked underneath his arm in order to enter his apartment.

“Lad,” Killian called, having to repeat himself several times at the unresponsive child who was looking around his apartment. Once he had the boy’s attention, he carefully spoke, “Where are your parents?” The boy - _Henry_ \- didn’t seem to acknowledge his question so Killian pressed the issue further. “I don’t have a son.”

Henry look at him directly. “Ten years ago, did you consent for your kid to be given for adoption by his mother?”

Killian’s heart stopped for a second, a dreadful cold invading his body as Henry stared at him and tilted his head to the side.  He felt himself transported to another place, another time, to a set of green eyes looking at him and tilting of a head in the same familiar way.

Henry seemed to have read the recognition in his face, because he gave Killian a soft, hopeful smile. “That was me,” he said.

Killian shook his head, trying to get his bearings, feeling his throat constricting with emotion. “Give me a minute, lad,” he asked as he retreated to the bathroom, closing the door behind him. He pressed his forehead against the door, reigning in the emotions that were flooding him.

“Do you have any juice?” The voice coming from the other side of the door broke him out of the depth he’d dived in and he pulled himself back together before leaving the bathroom.

“We should get going,” Henry said to him after he finished drinking Killian’s juice.

“Going _where_?” Killian asked dumbfounded.

“I want you to come home with me,” Henry said with hopeful tone, his eyes shining and Killian had to fight the wave of dizziness that came over him at how much of the kid’s reactions reminded him of the lad’s birth mother.  But he soon regained his senses and reached for his phone.

“This is insane, lad. I’m calling the cops,” he stated vehemently.

“I’ll tell them you kidnapped me,” Henry threatened with a smug smile on his face. “And since you’re my biological father, they’ll believe me.”

Killian took a long look at him and smirked. “You’re good, lad, I’ll give you that,” he acknowledged. “And I don’t know much in life, but I do have one thing going for me. Let’s call it a superpower. I can tell when people are lying.” He pointed his finger at Henry. “And you, lad, are lying.”

His thumb ghosted over the dial buttons but Henry’s voice stopped him. “Wait! Don’t call the cops. Please, just come home with me,” he pleaded.

Killian lifted his eyes and looked at the ten-year-old boy standing on his apartment. The son he’d never expected to meet. Something seemed to awaken in him at the look in those hazel eyes.

He sighed, “Where’s home?”

Henry grinned. “Storybrooke, Maine.”

/-/

It was a long drive to Maine. Killian knew this and he fought the fatigue that was creeping into him as he sipped on his coffee. Henry was comfortably located in the passenger seat, his eyes wandering around looking at everything and talking very fast.

“Easy, lad. This is not a road trip,” Killian said, almost at the breaking point of losing his sanity altogether.

“I have a name, you know? It’s Henry,” he replied, a hint of sadness in his voice as he reached to pull something out of his backpack.

Killian clenched his jaw, feeling regretful about not using Henry’s name. He wasn’t trying to hurt the kid’s feelings, but he needed to maintain distance between him and the boy before his own mind started to picture scenarios he most surely couldn’t - _shouldn’t_ \- be imagining.

From the corner of his eye, he noticed Henry was reading some type of book, a massive leather monstrosity that was almost as big as him.

“What do you have in there, la-Henry?” He asked curiously.

“The book,” Henry said cryptically, his hand passing through the pages filled with black ink and drawings, “but you are not ready for this yet.”

“Probably not,” Killian acknowledged, but the night had already taken a turn for the unbelievable, so he figured a little more was not going to tip him off the edge. “But try me.” He gave Henry a challenging smirk and he witnessed Henry’s eyes lightening up. “What is so special about the stories you’re reading?”

“They are not fictional stories, they are real.” Henry stated vehemently, his voice getting agitated as he sensed Killian’s disbelief. “I’m telling the truth, I know you can tell.”

“Just because you believe in something, doesn’t make it true,” Killian pointed out, as he could tell Henry honestly believed in what he was saying.

“It’s exactly what makes it true,” Henry pointed out. “And you should believe in this more than anything.”

“Why’s that?” Killian asked curiously.

“You’re in it.” Henry beamed at him.

Killian shook his head. “Lad, you need help.”

“Yeah, I need _your_ help to fix all this,” he proclaimed, his fingers grazing over the book.

/-/

He was wrong about the night not being able to be even more tiresome. He’d spent the majority of the car ride listening to Henry’s incredible story about the town being cursed and everyone being a fairytale character, _including_ his adoptive mother being the Evil Queen, something so far-fetched Killian couldn’t even begin to comprehend. Things almost tipped him over the edge when upon arrival to the most quiet town he’d seen in his life -and he’d seen a lot of places- Henry had refused to give him his address. Then, the strange man that showed up while walking his dog and claiming to be Henry’s shrink pointing out where he could locate the boy’s house.

It turned out that his mother was the freaking _Mayor_ of the town. As if he needed one more thing to bloody go wrong with his life at the moment. Killian was at the last thread of his sanity when he parked the car in front of the Mayor’s house. _Mansion_ would be the most accurate term. Killian and Henry hadn’t even made it halfway through, Henry still arguing about her mother’s evil status, when the front door opened and a brunette woman appeared. She was dressed impeccably and she’d screamed as she reached for Henry, tears in her eyes, asking desperately what happened.

Henry had blurted out the truth about Killian and stormed into the house and suddenly Killian found himself meeting shocking eyes and a disbelieving stare.

“You’re Henry’s biological father?” The woman asked and Killian did his best to offer a small nod and a respectful smile. He watched as the woman’s eyes darkened for a second before she pulled herself together and gave him a tight smile, a polite invitation coming to her lips.

“Would you like a glass of the best apple cider you’ve ever tasted?”.

_Lady, I need something stronger than that._

/-/

The mayor had introduced herself as Regina Mills as she led him through the front door and into the house. Killian was now standing at the entrance of the impeccable living room, his eyes scanning the flawless place. He could feel that sense of _old and sophisticated money_ that simply appeared to be effortless. He took a few hesitant steps as Regina poured a couple of drinks.

“How did he find me?” Killian asked, his shoulder leaning on the doorframe and his hands in the back pocket of his jeans.

“I have no idea,” Regina explained. “I adopted him when he was three weeks old. It was a closed adoption. The records were sealed.” Regina turned around and looked at him, “I have to ask… Is there a mother?”

Killian grabbed the glass that Regina handed him, swallowing slowly. “Well, clearly there was one,” he said with a little sarcasm, stating the obvious.

“Do I need to worry about her?” Regina pressed.

“She seemed to have vanished from the earth,” Killian said under his breath, as he reached to take a sip of the cider.  Lord knew he’d tried over and over to find her. He’d made a living out of finding people for the last decade, yet she - the one he craved the most - he cannot find.

“Do I need to be worried about you?” Regina inquired but Killian’s reply was interrupted by a tall, bearded man coming down the stairs, announcing that Henry was safe and sound in his bed.

Killian watched as Regina’s smile softened and she thanked the man - the _Sheriff_ \- who gave one brief glance in Killian’s way and nodded as he left the house.

“I’m sorry he dragged you out of your life,” Regina continued as she led Killian into her studio. “I don’t know what has gotten into him.”

“He seems to be having a tough time,” Killian offered politely as he took a seat, trying to fight the uncomfortable and suffocating feeling that was invading him.

“Ever since I became mayor, it’s been hard to balance things.” Regina walked around the room before she sat in front of him. “It’s a job on top of another job, being a single mother.” She gave him a small, conspiratorial smile, “I suppose I am strict, but I’m doing it for his own good. Does that make me evil?”

Killian shifted, reaching for the glass, “I’m sure it’s just about the fairytale book.”

“Fairytale book?” Regina asked intrigued.

“How he thinks everyone is a character from the stories in the book?” Killian offered as further explanation but he stopped when he saw the confused look in Regina’s eyes.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Killian sighed, “You know, it’s none of my business. He’s your son. I should be getting back.”

Regina quickly agreed, getting fast on her feet as if she were eager to dismiss him. Killian couldn’t blame her; he didn’t want to be there either.

He walked silently to his car, forcing himself to be strong, trying to shut down the voice in the back of his head that was telling him all of this was a sign.

At the end, he couldn’t help himself as he turned his head up and his eyes focused on the second story window where he could make out the shadow of a small head.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair as he rushed into his car and drove off.

The rain had started to fall again and the sound of the water drops hitting the hood of the car was slowly luring him back into a sense of normality, helping him leave this night behind.

But a quick glance on the passenger seat brought him back quickly. There lay Henry’s book.

_Sneaky bastard._

He shook his head before his eyes focused back on the road and he saw the wolf right in front of him. His foot hit the brake and his hands desperately turned the wheel to avoid hitting the animal. He felt the car lose control and hit something before everything turned into darkness.

/-/

He woke up, disoriented, to the sounds of a whistle. Killian slowly moved to get up, careful with his impending headache as he took in his surroundings: he was lying on a cot, behind bars. It wasn't a novelty, but it hadn't happened in years. He groaned as he to tried to make sense of the words being spoken around him. There was some Italian accented old man complimenting him for being back in Henry’s life and bickering with the occupant of the cell next to his, his words and expression sad as he shared how he’d wished to have a son and never could.

Killian didn’t even know what to feel at this point. He was tired, uncomfortable and wanted nothing more than get out of this forsaken town, drown himself in a bottle of rum and a meaningless one-night stand and forget all of this ever happened in the first place.

The Sheriff walked in, commanding Leroy - that apparently was the name of the man in the next cell - to behave and smile. Leroy smiled snarkily at the Sheriff and exited the station.

Killian smirked himself, his voice catching the attention of the law-enforcer. “Seriously?” He asked as his face pressed against the bars.

The Sheriff gave him a sheepish smile. “It seems that Regina’s drink might be stronger than what you thought?”

Killian reacted, offended by the hint hidden in the statement, “I wasn’t drunk, mate. There’s was a wolf on the road.”

“A _wolf_?” The other man asked in disbelief, not buying Killian’s version of the facts. He was about to add something when a soft cry interrupted them.

“Graham! Henry is gone again, we have to -” Regina stopped mid-sentence, her eyes focusing on Killian. “What’s he doing here? Do you know where my son is?!?”

“Madam Mayor, I haven’t seen the lad since I delivered him to your doorstep last night and as you can witness, I have a very locked-down alibi as to where I’ve been all night.” Killian informed her, trying very hard to hide his frustration at the entire ordeal. He wanted to leave all this behind, get in his car and drive back home, forget that his _son_ was once again missing. Yet, he couldn't avoid the questions swimming in his head. _What was happening with Henry? Why was the lad running again?_

Regina turned to face Graham. “He wasn’t in his room this morning.”

“Have you check with his friends?” Killian asked.

“He doesn’t have any friends.” Regina replied, a slight hint of shame in her tone.

“Every kid has friends,” he said, slightly confused by her statement. Even he, Killian Jones, outsider extraordinaire, had managed to forge a friendship or two at the lad’s age. Keeping them had been the challenge: he’d lose them each time he had to move again, into a new foster home or a new group home. “Have you tried his computer?” He offered in a helpful tone. “He might be emailing them…”

“How do you know all of this?” Regina asked unimpressed.

“Finding people is what I do. And I’m quite good at it,” he finished smugly. _I’ve found them all but one_. He tilted his head, an idea forming. “How about the good sheriff here lets me out, I’ll help you track the lad and then I’ll be on my merry way out of here?”

/-/

Henry wasn’t daft. _At all_. He was quite a smart kid who covered his tracks and deleted his emails and cleared his browsing history. Killian tried to suppress the proud smile that was coming to his lips.

“Luckily, I have a few tricks up my sleeve,” he said to Graham as he retrieved his pendrive and stuck it in the USB port. “I have a hard disk recovery program we can use.”

“Interesting,” Graham conceded. “I usually like pounding the pavement and asking questions.”

“The good ol’ fashioned way, uh?” Killian teased. “That works just fine when you’re on a salary. I get paid by delivery. I simply don’t have that luxury.”

He focused on the information on the screen. A website advertising services to find biological parents, an expensive fee and his name right there on the birth certificate image.

“Does he have a credit card? He used one to pay for this…” he asked Regina, who denied it.

Killian pulled up the credit card receipt from the transaction and read the name out loud. “Mary Margaret Blanchard. Does the name ring a bell?”

Regina’s eyes squinted in distaste. “Henry’s teacher.”

/-/

Henrys’ teacher - a young woman with a pixie cut and a warm smile - all but flinched when Regina barged in and demanded information on Henry. Her eyes shifted to him and Killian felt a weird vibe passing through him.

“I’m sorry, you are?” She asked, a little dazzled as well.

“I - I’m -”

“Henry’s biological father. The one who consented to the adoption.” Regina’s words interrupted him and Mary Margaret turned to search her wallet, her smile faltering when she found her credit card missing. Killian could tell she’d been blindsided by all this and he offered a supportive smile to her.

“I should’ve never given him that book…” she said softly

“What the hell is this book I keep hearing about?” Regina snapped.

Mary Margaret explained about giving Henry the book to keep him company, choosing her words carefully around Henry’s problems to fit it, and how lonely he was. Killian felt as if someone was wringing his heart in his chest. All these years, as the guilt crept into him from time to time, he’d tried to convince himself that Emma had been right, that this had been the best decision to make, that their baby would be given a better chance. The chance he and Emma didn’t have. That he’d be _happy_.

Killian was brought back to the present by Regina storming out of the classroom, a non-heartfelt wish for his safe return to Boston escaping her lips. He quickly bent to help Mary Margaret pick up the fallen books, the question leaving his lips before he could refrain himself.

“How was the book supposed to help?”

“There’s truth in those stories, they help us cope with the world,” Mary Margaret said, leaving the stack of books on one of the nearby tables before she headed to the door and Killian walked next to her. “Henry hasn’t had the easiest of times-”

“Well, she seems very hard on him,” Killian said nonchalantly.

“It’s not just that,” Mary Margaret said as they walked down the school hallway. “Like any adopted child, there’s that question always nagging him… _why would everyone give me away_?”  She seemed to realize what she said at the same moment the words struck Killian, and she quickly turned around.

“I am so sorry, I didn’t mean in any way to judge you or Henry’s birth mother, I was just-” she spoke hastily and apologetically and Killian raised his hand to stop her.

“It’s ok,” he said with a small smile on his lips.

“Look, I gave Henry the book because I wanted him to have the most important thing anyone can have: _Hope_.” Mary Margaret’s eyes lightened.

Killian felt the knot on his throat, “I once had hope. It didn’t last.” 

She tilted her head. “Believing even in the possibility of a happy ending is a very powerful thing.”

Killian sighed, reaching to scratch behind his ear pensively before realization dawned on him. “You know where he is, don’t you?”

Mary Margaret gave him a small smile. “You might want to check his castle.”

/-/

Killian looked up to the wooden house on the playground. It was slightly battered around the edges but it seemed it would hold his weight in addition to the brown haired ten-year old that was already sitting there. He held the book tightly under his arm as he climbed up the stairs.

“You forgot this in my car, lad,” Killian said as he sat next to Henry and handled him the book. Henry took it, his fingers caressing the letters for a moment before his eyes focused on the horizon again.

Killian’s eyes followed Henry’s line of sight, noticing the clock on the tower. Henry had mentioned the night before that the clock didn’t move because time was frozen in the town. He’d sounded so sure on his theory that the town was cursed.

“Still hasn’t moved, aye?” Killian asked.

Henry sighed, a disheartened expression on his face. “I was hoping that now that I brought you back, it would start moving, that the final battle would begin-”

“I’m not fighting any battles, lad,” Killian reminded him.

“But it’s your destiny!” Henry contested. “You’re here to bring back the happy endings!”

“You need to cut it with this book nonsense,” Killian spat exasperated.

“You don’t have to be harsh with me… I know you like me, Killian. I can tell.” Henry tilted his head knowingly, an honest smile on his lips. “You’re pushing me away because I make you feel guilty. It’s ok.” 

_Bloody Hell, the lad was good._ Killian didn’t remember anyone being able to read him like that - like an open book- ever since... He ran his hand through his hair.

Henry continued talking, his young voice soft and secure. “I know why she gave me away. I know why you consented to it. You wanted to give me my best chance.”

Killian felt the weight at the pit of his stomach, the tears welling in his eyes and he had to avert his gaze from the kid that was sitting next to him, ripping his heart in two. He swallowed hard before he spoke again.

“How do you know that?” he asked in a strained voice.

“Because it’s the same reason Snow White gave you away….”

Killian could feel his heart breaking at the conviction in Henry’s words. The thought of the lad - _his son_ \- believing in such things when his real life had been anything but -

“I am not part of any book, lad!” Killian burst out, the emotion palpable in his voice. “I’m _real_ , my life is real and whatever you might lead yourself to believe, I am no savior.” He swallowed, his jaw clenching as he fought to pronounce his next words. “But I - _we_ \- did want what was best for you. And it’s time I take you back to your mother.”

He jumped the short distance to the ground and started walking towards his car. Henry quickly followed, pleading with him. “Please don’t take me back there. Just stay for one week, it’s all I ask!”

“Your mother-” Killian started but Henry cut him off.

“You don’t know what it’s like… my life sucks!”

Killian felt his patience running out. “ _Sucks_? Sucks is being left at the side of the freeway- my parents didn’t even bother to leave me in a hospital!” His voice raised, unable to keep the pain away from it, the tears visible in his eyes. “I ended up in the foster system and the Joneses adopted me. They were a wonderful family, they- they loved me and I even had a big brother to protect me from bullies and life was _great_. And then they died in a car accident when I was eight and I was back into the system, bouncing from one place to another.”

Killian saw Henry flinch at the harshness in his words and he tried to reign in his feelings. “Look, lad, your mom might not be perfect, but she’s trying. It might not seem like she loves you but Henry, she wants you.”

“Your parents didn’t leave you… that is where you came through.” Henry said, speaking hastily to convey his thoughts before Killian cut him off again. “The magical wardrobe they put you through just brought you there… your parents were trying to save you from the curse,” he finished in a small voice.

There was something in the way he emphasized the words -trying to prove that he was not crazy- that tugged at Killian’s heart. But he pushed those thoughts aside and smiled sadly.  “Come on Henry.” He motioned to the child with his hand.

The drive back to the house was silent most of the time, until Henry broke it, his small voice daring to ask a final question. “Can you tell me one thing? What was she like? My mom.”

Killian let his mind drift to her, as he hadn’t in years. To her laugh, her green eyes and blond hair. The way she could read his mood instantly and always knew what to do to make it better. How she felt pressed against him, hopes for a better life whispered into the quietness of the night.

“She was everything, Henry.” Killian’s voice was hoarse as he spoke the words.

Regina met them at the door and Henry made quick way into the house.

“Thank you. He seems to have taken quite a shine to you,” she said briefly.

Killian shuffled his feet, his gaze averting to the floor. “Aye… I never thought-” he trailed off for a second before he lifted his head and looked at Regina. “When we gave him up - when I signed the papers- I wasn’t -  I _couldn’t…_ ” he hesitated briefly before a small, hopeful smile came to his lips. “But seeing him now…”

Whatever words he was formulating, they were cut off by Regina’s raised hand and stern tone. “Make no mistakes, Mr. Jones: that _wasn’t_ an invitation to be part of his life.” She raised an eyebrow at him. “While you were gone, doing God knows what… _I_ raised him. From every single sleepless night to every tantrum and every milestone. He’s _my_ son. You have no legal right to Henry. You best get in your car and leave town, because if not, I will destroy you even if it is the last thing I do,” she finished threateningly.

Killian’s possible retort had died on his lips at the fierceness in her tone - he couldn’t quite blame her. She didn’t know him, she didn’t know the circumstances that led Henry to be put up for adoption and she had no obligation to give him anything.  He quickly nodded, and watched her turn around and enter the house, before he asked his final question.

“Do you love him?”

Regina looked at him for a second. “Of course I love him,” she said offended. “Goodbye, Mr. Jones,” she enunciated with an air of royal decision.

The door slammed shut and he retreated his steps towards his yellow bug, not being able to shake that sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. Killian sat in his car, pondering his thoughts. He couldn’t say for certain whether Regina was lying or not… but something seemed off. And he knew he had no right, that he should just drive away.

But Henry… the lad was all he had left of Emma, besides the battered yellow bug he’d been able to track after he got out of jail and all the memories that haunted him each sleepless night.  He’d never set out to find his son, he intended to respect the boundaries of a closed adoption.

_But Henry had found him._

He’d never been able to find Emma in a decade spent looking for her but his son was able to find _him_. He had to stay, even if just for a week- he needed to ensure Henry was ok.

He was all he had left from Emma. _He had to stay._

He swiftly made his way back into town and stopped in the tattered _Granny's Bed and Breakfast_ , securing a room for the week under the shock and scrutiny of the local folks - including a shady character under the name of Mr. Gold that had been quite intrigued by his name.

_Just one week._ Killian told himself.

Somewhere on the outside, the clock started ticking.


	3. Chapter III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know... it's been ages. But I'm back to this story now! I cannot commit to a weekly update, because writing this fic is a lot of work that involves ploting, rewatches, tweakes, backstory and a huge amount of detail that is really draining for me. So bear with me. I will commit to have an update every two weeks.  
> All comments and reviews of encouragement will be highly appreciated

The sound of knocking at the door interrupted Killian’s first cup of coffee in the morning. He went to answer, still absentmindedly holding his mug in his right hand.

Regina was standing on the other side of the door, wearing a sensible grey dress and a coat, holding a basket full of red apples. She was poised to speak, but whatever words she had died on her lips the second she got a good look at him, her eyes widening as she trailed her gaze back and forth over his body. It was then that Killian realized he hadn’t bothered to put on his shirt before opening the door, his bare chest attracting the Mayor’s attention before she lowered her gaze appreciatively to where his jeans were hanging low on his hips. Killian contemplated acknowledging her interest with a suggestive remark, but he ultimately decided against it. He had zero intention of following up on those remarks with any type of dalliance with his son’s adoptive mother. Some doors - much like his heart - were better to remain closed. He settled for a soft clear of his throat and a raised eyebrow in her direction.

That seemed to snap Regina’s attention back to his face, and she quickly schooled her features into a honeyed smile with little authenticity behind it.

“Did you know the Honeycrisp tree is the most vigorous and hearty of all apple trees? It can survive temperatures as low as forty below, and keep growing. It can weather any storm.” There was a veiled threat in there somewhere, and it made the hair at the nape of his neck rise in alert. “I have one that I’ve tended to since I was a little girl. And to this day, I have yet to taste anything more delicious than the fruit it offers.” She grabbed one of the apples from the basket and held it out to him. Killian didn’t take it. “I’m sure you’ll enjoy them on your drive home,” Regina insisted.

Killian Jones may have felt like an orphan for the past twenty years of his life, but that hadn’t always been the case. And though he hadn’t thought about her in a long while, he couldn’t help but hear the warning voice of Isobel Jones in his head at that very moment.

“I’m sorry, Madam Mayor,” he said with his most polite voice, “but my Mum taught me not to accept food from strangers.”

Regina’s smile faltered, something sinister crossing her features before she regained her composure. “I’m hardly a stranger,” she offered with a seductive smile.

Killian tilted his head as if to consider her words. “Even so, I’m afraid I’m not very fond of apples. Never really developed a taste for them.  And it turns out I won’t be needing them today, anyway. I’ve decided to stay a while.”

Regina didn’t hide her menacing look this time. “I’m not sure that’s such a good idea. Henry has enough issues. He doesn’t need you confusing him.”

Killian sighed, running a hand through his hair. He didn’t wish to antagonize Henry’s mother further, but nor did he want to leave Henry just yet. Not until he was sure that whatever deep issue was troubling the lad was resolved.

He chose his words carefully. “I don’t mean any harm, or wish to be an inconvenience. I just want to make sure he’s okay.”

Regina gave him a dismissive look. “He’s fine. Any problems he has are being taken care of. ”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Killian asked alarmed, a sense of dread creeping into him.

“It means I have him in therapy. It’s all under control. Take my advice, Mr. Jones. Only one of us knows what’s best for Henry.” She paused and looked Killian straight in the eye, a silent dare passing between them. Killian said nothing, choosing to hold her gaze as his only reply to her words. “It’s time for you to go,” Regina said, finishing her sentence with a sweet fake smile on her face.

Killian cleared his throat. “Or what?” he asked daringly.

Regina took one step closer to him, her tone cold and calculating. “Don’t underestimate me, Mr. Jones. You have no idea what I’m capable of.”

She gave him one last look before she swiftly turned around and left. Killian let out a weary sigh. He’d let his emotions get the best of him, and now he and Regina were at odds again, exactly like he _hadn’t_ wanted. It wouldn’t resolve anything.  It wouldn’t help Henry, which was the only thing he cared about at this point. He let the door slam closed, and replaced his mug on the table. He was going to need a stronger coffee and a better breakfast to start this day.

And for that, he needed to put a shirt on first.

/-/

Killian sat at the counter of Granny’s dinner and sighed as he took in his mug shot staring back at him from the front page of the local newspaper.  His mind drifted to the last time he’d had his mugshot taken over a decade ago, and he found himself horrified at the fact that he hadn’t made it forty eight hours in this town without making it to the news. Clearly small towns were _not_ his thing. 

The striking brunette he’d seen bickering with her grandmother the night before interrupted his thoughts as she placed a cup of hot cocoa in front of him.

“I didn’t order this,” Killian said. Because as wonderful as the hot cocoa looked, he wouldn’t have ordered one. Especially not today of all days, when it brought back too many painful memories that he’d already had a hard time keeping at bay.

Ruby gave him a coy smile. “Yeah, I know. You have an admirer.”

Killian couldn’t help the smirk that graced his lips, “Is that you, lass? If you wanted to get close to me, you need only have asked.”

Ruby’s eyes danced up and down his face, studying him and Killian instantly felt a pang of regret settle in his stomach at his own stupidity. Aye, he was no stranger to resorting to let anyone willing and available help him chase away the demons of Emma for a few hours. Two bodies connecting, tangled limbs and a mindless release. A few hours of just _not thinking_. But somehow, Killian didn’t think he should be conducting himself in such manner in the town where his son lived, and with the woman that would be serving him breakfast for the duration of his stay. But more than that, something just didn’t feel right.

She must have read the bluff in his eyes, because she gave him a sultry smirk before shaking her head. “It wasn’t from me, hotshot.” Her eyes darted to one of the booths behind him and his eyebrows shot up in surprise at the sight of the Sheriff - Graham- sitting there, nursing a cup of coffee. Killian gave Ruby a confused look before he cleared his throat and rose from his seat, taking the mug in question over to where Graham was sitting.

“You decided to stay,” Graham offered politely, as Killian set down the mug in front of him.

“Observant… an important feature for local enforcement.” Killian cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Look, mate, the cocoa was a nice gesture, and I’m impressed that you guessed that I like cinnamon on top, but I’m not here to flirt. It’s not that I’m not flattered, I am. You seem to be a very nice bloke, and I’m sure you’ll make someone happy someday but I don’t bat for your team.”

Graham looked at him confused. “I didn’t send it.”

Killian could feel his cheeks reddening as the sheriff realized the meaning behind his words and blushed as well. From the corner of his eye, he could see Ruby giving him an unashamed smile while mouthing ‘ _Ooops sorry’_ at him. Killian reached to scratch behind his ear, trying desperately to think of a way to talk himself out of the situation he’d put himself in, when another voice spoke up from the next booth.

“I did,” Henry said, standing. “I like cinnamon too.” He was wearing a school uniform and beaming at him.

“Don’t you have school?” Killian asked between confusion and surprise. He wondered where the lad’s mother was and why Henry was sitting alone at the diner.

“Duh, I’m ten,” Henry mocked him. “Walk me?”

Killian nodded, leading Henry outside of the diner. Anything to get him away from the amused looks the sheriff and the waitress were giving him.

Killian and Henry crossed the street and the lad strode ahead purposefully, Killian following closely behind. His sense of direction was good, but he still didn’t entirely know his way around town.

“So, what’s the issue with you and your mum, lad?” he asked nonchalantly, his mind still tracing back to his conversation with Regina that morning.

“It’s not about us, it’s about her curse,” Henry stated. “We have to break it. Luckily, I have a plan. Step one – identification. I call it _Operation Cobra_.” He beamed at Killian, his freckled nose twitching in a familiar way that was forever imprinted in Killian’s memory. He felt it again, that pang of regret and longing, letting it wash over him before he thought back on Henry’s words.

“Cobra?” Killian tilted his head slightly perplexed. “That has nothing to do with fairy tales, lad.”

“Exactly,” Henry pointed out. “It’s a code name to throw the Queen off the trail.”

Killian’s heart broke a little when he heard Henry referring to his adoptive mother in that way, as if she were an evil villain from a fairytale. He decided to ask the lad a few questions, trying to understand how deep his fable world extended.

“So if I follow your tale accurately, everyone here is a fairy tale character, right? They’re just not aware of it.”

“That’s the curse,” Henry nodded. “Time’s been frozen – until you got here.”

“What about their pasts? Their stories?”

“They don’t know. It’s a haze to them. Ask anyone anything, and you’ll see.”

Killian tried to make sense of Henry’s words. “You’re telling me that, for _decades_ , people have been walking around in a haze, not aging, with fabricated memories, stuck in a cursed town that kept them oblivious to everything?”

They had reached the school grounds and Henry nodded one more time, smiling proudly at him. He remembered that smile, only that it had graced another face, another set of lips. Once upon a time, he’d have given anything to have that smile directed at him. His world shone brighter when Emma had smiled proudly at him. It had made him feel as if he were invincible.

Henry’s next words shook him out of his memories. “I knew you’d get it. That’s why we need you. You’re the only one who can stop her curse!”

“Because I’m the son of Snow White and Prince Charming?” Killian scoffed incredulous.

“Yes! And right now, we have the advantage. My mom doesn’t know that. I took out the end. The part with you in it.” He took a few pages that seemed to have been torn from the book out of his backpack, and handed them to Killian. Killian took them, his eyes focusing on a detailed illustration of a light haired man carrying a baby wrapped in a blanket. The blanket had his name - _Killian_ \- embroidered onto it. “See? Your mom is Snow White.”

“Lad-” Killian started, but Henry interrupted him.

“I know the hero never believes at first.” Killian’s heart sank in his chest at the tone of Henry’s voice. “If they did, it wouldn’t be a very good story. If you need proof, take them. Read them,” Henry pleaded. “But whatever you do, don’t let her see these pages. They’re dangerous. If she finds out who you are, then it would be bad.” There was a hint of real fear in his voice that made Killian reach out for Henry’s shoulder in a comforting manner.

They’d reached the school entrance and Henry spoke in a haste. “I’ve got to go. But I’ll find you later and we can get started. I knew you’d believe me!” 

“I never said I did.” Killian cocked an eyebrow.

“Why else would you be here?” Henry yelled mischievously as he turned and ran to the school.

Killian chuckled before his eyes settled on Mary Margaret, who approached him smiling.

“It’s good to see his smile back,” she confessed.

Killian shook his head, a slight self-deprecating tone in his voice. “I didn’t do anything.”

“You stayed.” Mary Margaret pronounced the words with precision, as if the small act of Killian deciding to stay just for a few days would have created such an instant and rapid change in Henry’s life. “So, does the Mayor know you’re still here?”

Killian’s eyebrows shot up in his forehead. “Oh, she knows. She paid me a lovely visit this morning.” It was Mary Margaret’s turn to cock an eyebrow but Killian waved his hand dismissively, the pages of the book still clutched in them. “It was anything but a _friendly_ visit. Makes me wonder how she’s been elected, considering her people skills - or lack of thereof.”

Mary Margaret seemed to be thinking about Killian’s question. “She’s been mayor for as long as I can remember. No one’s ever been brave enough to run against her.” She lowered her voice.  “She inspires quite a bit of, well, _fear_. I’m afraid I only made that worse by giving Henry that book. Now he thinks she’s the Evil Queen,” Mary Margaret sighed.

“Who does he think you are?” Killian asked curiously.

“Oh, it’s silly.” Mary Margaret blushed.

“Try me, love,” he teased.

“Snow White,” she confessed, biting her lower lip in embarrassment.

Killian’s heart skipped a beat as he felt a sudden rush of warmth rushing through his blood. _Snow White_. If we were to believe Henry’s fable, _this was his mother_.

“Who does he think _you_ are?” Mary Margaret asked in return.

He reached to scratch behind his ear nervously, trying to figure out what to say. But it wasn’t necessary, as Mary Margaret seemed to read into his behavior and pieced it together.

“The drawing, the name in the blanket. _Killian_ ,” she started, her eyes widening, “he thinks you’re…” she trailed off, her eyes searching his features in a way that should have made Killian uncomfortable, yet it didn’t.

“Aye,” he finally agreed. “He thinks I’m your son.”

/-/

Killian knocked on Dr. Archibald Hopper’s office door, his feet shuffling back and forth, trying to fight that nervous sensation that was creeping up the back of his neck. He heard the voice inviting him in and quickly entered the room, pulling on his most charming smile.

“Killian Jones,” Archie said, motioning to the newspaper lying over the desk. “I was, uh, just reading about you. Let me guess – you’re here for a little help with post-traumatic stress?”

Killian chuckled. “Believe me, I’ve had worse traumas than this one, and I’ve come out of them somehow unscathed.” He reached to scratch behind his ear, noticing how much that particular tic of his had started making a repeat appearance since he’d made it into this town. “I’m here about Henry…”

Archie backtracked a few steps, discomfort showing in his features. “I’m sorry. I… I really shouldn’t-”

Killian raised his hand in a placating gesture. “I know, I don’t want you put you in a compromising situation, mate. But… the lad thinks everyone is a character from his book. That’s…” he tried to find an appropriate word. “That can’t be healthy for him.”

Archie sighed, his eyes carrying more than a hint of reproach. “I-I hope you don’t talk that way in front of him. It can be, um, quite damaging. These stories… They’re his language. He has no idea how to express complex emotion, so he’s translating as best as he can. This is how he communicates, using this book to help deal with his problems.”

 _Problems_. The word sliced through Killian’s heart like a dagger, filling him with ache. This wasn’t the destiny he’d wanted for his little boy when he signed off on the adoption papers.

“He thinks his mother is the Evil Queen,” he said softly, not being able to hide the despair in his voice. “Why would he think that?”

Archie hesitated. “His mother is, uh, a very complicated woman. And, uh, over the years, her attempts to try and bring Henry close to her only backfired.”

Killian swallowed the lump in his throat. “Can it be fixed? Is there- is there hope for them?” He noticed Archie’s confused stare and gave him a tight smile. “I was adopted. _Once_. I know it can be hard sometimes, but it can also be a good thing, a wonderful thing.” Gods knew, the Joneses had been everything to him, right up until the very moment they were taken away from him in that car accident.

Archie walked toward his file cabinet and pulled a folder from it. “Why don’t you take a look at the file? See what I mean.”

“Shouldn’t that be confidential?”

“Perhaps it can help put your mind to ease,” Archie offered gently. “Just, uh, see that I get it back, okay? And Mr. Jones, just for the sake of the boy, be careful how to handle his belief system. Destroying his imagination would be… devastating.”

Killian took the file. “Aye, thank you, I will.”  
  
/-/

Killian hadn’t made it past the second page of the reports - his heart cringing at words like _troubled mind_ and _abandonment issues_ \- when there was a knock on his door.  Checking he had a shirt on this time, he stood up and answered the door. The sheriff was standing on the other side, an uncomfortable smile on his face.

“Mate,” Killian started awkwardly, “if this is about earlier-”

Graham cut him off with a wave of his hand. “Actually, I’m here about Dr. Archibald Hopper. He mentioned you got into a bit of a row with him earlier?”

“Uh - no?” Killian said confused.

“He says you demanded to see Henry’s files and when he refused, you forced him into handing them over.”

Kilian’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “He _gave_ them to me,” he tried to explain, but Graham shrugged at him.

“Alas, he’s telling a different tale. May I check your room? Or do I have to get a search warrant?”

Knowing nothing good would come from refusing, Killian could recognize a set up when he saw it. He just wanted to smack himself in the head for not realizing it sooner. Before he’d taken the bloody files to begin with. He stepped aside and let Graham enter the room.

“This what you’re looking for?” He motioned to the bed where the file’s contents still lay scattered.

“Well, you’re very accommodating.” Graham pulled out a pair of handcuffs and Killian groaned. “I’m afraid, Mr. Jones, you’re under arrest. _Again_.”

“Bloody great,” Killian sighed, as the handcuffs snapped shut over his wrists. “This is a set-up, mate.”

“And whom, may I ask, is setting you up?”

_I can think of one person who wants me out of the picture._

/-/

Killian stood in front of the plain painted wall, his handcuffed hands in front. He hadn’t posed for a mugshot in a decade - a remarkably good streak, considering his origins - only to have it taken _twice_ in the same amount of days in bloody Storybrooke. He sighed, exasperated.

“The shrink is lying, mate,” he repeated, for what felt like the umpteenth time.

“To the right, please,” Graham ordered. “Why would he lie?”

“Someone might have put him up to it,” Killian cocked an eyebrow at Graham, hoping the sheriff might catch on to the hidden - and not so hidden - meaning in his words.

“To the right,” Graham repeated again, waiting until Killian turned to take another picture. “Who could possibly do that?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Killian shrugged. “Someone intimidating. Someone who wields a lot of power locally. Someone like the _Mayor_ , perhaps?”

“I don’t think Regina is that intimidating.” Graham said, with a tilt of his head as he took the polaroid out of the camera. “And she’s the Mayor. She’s _supposed_ to be involved in all the town’s affairs.”

 _Involved, uh._  

“Interesting,” Killian cocked an eyebrow. “Tell me, mate, how _involved_ is she with the police force?”

Graham hesitated for a second, a slight blush coming to his cheeks and it was all the confirmation Killian needed to realize that there might be something going on there. But before any of them could speak again, Henry barged into the station with Mary Margaret right behind him.

“Henry! Henry, what are you doing here?” Graham asked, his body going a little stiff as he spotted Mary Margaret.

“His mother told him what happened,” Mary Margaret said briefly, her eyes darting worryingly to Killian.

Killian’s heart sank in his chest and he turned, almost afraid to meet Henry’s eyes. “Lad, I don’t know what your mother told you, but-”

“You’re a genius!” Henry interrupted excitedly, beaming at him. “You were gathering intel for Operation Cobra.”

“Operation what? I’m a bit lost.” Graham said.

“It’s need to know, Sheriff,” Henry said curtly, his narrowing eyes just daring the man to disagree. Killian felt a strange mix of horror and pride, seeing himself reflected back at him through his young son for the first time. He’d been _exactly_ the same at Henry’s age when it came to defying authority. “And all you need to know is that Miss Blanchard’s going to bail him out.”

That last part took Killian out of the thoughts that were running in his head. “ _You are?_ ” he asked confused.

“I - yes. I trust you,” Mary Margaret said.

Graham looked from one to another and tilted his head, raising an eyebrow at Killian. “I didn’t know you two had gotten so close in the span of 48 hours.”

From the corner of his eye, Killian saw her blushing and averting her gaze and he felt sorry for the poor woman. All she did was give Henry a book and in the past few days she had her credit car stolen, was the subject of the Mayor’s wrath, and now was being dragged to bail the kid’s biological father - _her supposed son_ -  out of jail while the sheriff was off getting the wrong idea.

“None of your business, _mate_.” Killian spat, his words a cold warning. “But if the lady is indeed here to post my bail, then I’m free to go. So, if you don’t mind uncuffing me,” he said, raising his bound wrists in front of him, “I have better places to be.”

/-/

Killian seriously contemplated the idea of going toe to toe against Regina, and he would have done it if he thought anything good could come out of it. But nothing would. If the woman was prepared to pin such an absurd and unfounded crime on him, gods knew what else she was willing to do, just to get him out of the way. He had to stay one step ahead of this game. Sighing deeply - it was only noon and his day had been more eventful than the last two years of his life - he made his way back towards his rented room.  He needed a shower and a nap. And _coffee_.

He’d already gotten his key into the lock, and was moments away from turning the handle when he heard steps on the landing behind him. But when he wheeled around, it was only the elderly innkeeper, Granny, he presumed. But she looked troubled.

“Mr. Jones. Oh my, this is terribly awkward. Uh, I need to ask you to leave.” She fidgeted with her hands. “I’m afraid we have a ‘no felons’ rule. It… It turns out it’s a city ordinance.”

_Of bloody course._

“Let me guess – the Mayor’s office just called to remind you?”

She was even more uncomfortable when she met his gaze again, her mouth pulling into an apologetic frown. “You can gather your things, but I need to have your room key back.”

He briefly considered laying on the charm and trying to convince the woman to turn a blind eye to the ordinance. He knew he had the charisma to pull it off - it was after all, one of his favorite tactics to employ in his job, and what had gotten his jail records sealed back in the day - but much like everyone else in this town, she seemed terribly afraid of the Mayor. And the last thing Killian wanted to do was cause anyone else more grief. In all likelihood he’d be out of there by the end of the week, but the townspeople had to live there. It wasn’t worth it to have them alienate the Mayor. He simply smiled and handed over his key.

_He always had his loyal companion, his Bug, to rely on. It would hardly be the first time he’d slept in his car._

/-/

Killian knocked on the door and waited politely for an answer, toying with the manila envelope between his fingers. Mary Margaret opened the door and looked slightly shocked to see him standing there. He couldn’t blame her, it was an awkward situation for him too. Killian knew better than believing Henry’s far-fetched story about cursed fairytale characters in a town that time forgot, but a small part of him couldn’t help but studying Mary Margaret’s features to see if there was any resemblance between the two of them. Perhaps in the way she tilted her head at him? Her chin? He shook his head to quickly discard those thoughts - they wouldn’t do him any bit of good - and gave Mary Margaret a soft smile as he lift the envelope.

“I just wanted to say thank you and, um, reimburse you the bail money.”

Mary Margaret gave him a long and thoughtful stare that left him shuffling his feet, as if he couldn’t hide his deepest thoughts from her.

“You look like you need to talk,” she said as she opened the door and motioned for him to enter. Killian took a few hesitant steps into the loft, an odd sense of familiar warmth invading him as he took a seat at the table like Mary Margaret indicated.

“Let me get you something to drink,” she said, making her way to the open kitchen area and gathering a few things.

Killian let his eyes drift around the place, focusing on the soft ambiance and exposed bricks, the natural light coming from the window, the earthy tones which made the loft so cozy and inviting. Like a home. He hadn’t had one of those - a _home_ \- in a long time. After the accident, he’d gone right back into the system, bouncing from foster home to foster home, with a few group homes thrown in for variety. Fourteen of them, across three different states, and none of them had that air of simple comfort that Mary Margaret’s place seemed to exude. He was lost in those thoughts, his mind wandering to the broken dreams he once held, of building a home of his own, when a mug was placed in front of him. Snapping back to the present, he gave Mary Margaret a grateful smile and brought the mug to his lips, taking a sip. The familiar taste invaded his mouth at once, and he couldn’t quite hide his reaction.

“Cinnamon?” he asked in a soft voice, trying hard to keep the memories at bay.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I should’ve asked. It’s a little quirk of mine. Do you mind?” Mary Margaret seemed slightly fretful, and Killian could see the inner nurturer in her jumping with the need to offer something else if needed.

“Not at all,” Killian reassured her, taking another sip and letting the familiar taste comfort him instead. “I - I just knew someone that was very fond of it too.” The words lingered in between them, Mary Margaret’s silence making him feel at ease. It was an odd feeling, this familiarity he felt, the effortless comfort he drew from his surroundings. It made it easier for him to express himself.  “When you bailed me out, you said that you trusted me. Why?”

Mary Margaret’s eyes drifted towards the table, her hands cradling her mug. “It’s strange. Ever since you arrived here, I’ve had the oddest feeling like we’ve met before.” She tilted her head and gave him a quizzical look, a slight hint of self-deprecation clinging in the way her lips curved in a small smile. “I know it’s crazy.”

“Well, if we were led to believe Henry’s version of the events, I _am_ your son,” Killian said jokingly, trying to lighten the mood. It seemed easier to jest than to deal with why he was feeling this way. Or why he apparently wasn’t the only one.

Mary Margaret cocked an eyebrow at him as her lips pursed into a small pout. “It’s probably that, then.” She cleared her throat. “For what it’s worth, I think you’re innocent.”

Killian scoffed. “Of breaking and entering, or just in general?”

“Whichever makes you feel better,” she shrugged.

“Aye.” Killian’s finger traced the rim of the mug, his breath exhaling in a deep sigh. “While I appreciate the trust you’ve bestowed upon me, it doesn’t really matter at this point. I’m leaving,” he announced and his eyes focused on hers.

 She was looking at him intently, but there was no judgement in her eyes, no measure that found him wanting and unworthy. He expected the familiar condescending look towards the problematic type of trouble he clearly would bring to everyone around him, but there was none. In her eyes there was just understanding and empathy. He cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably under her unwavering gaze. “Thank you – for everything – but I think it’s for the best. If I stay, Henry’s only going to keep getting hurt, or building up his expectations only to be disappointed when I don’t measure up to them.”

_And I won’t measure up. The lad deserves better._

“What happens when you go?” she asked in that curious tone that she probably used with the children in her class. The one teachers always used when they already knew the answer, but liked to ask prodding questions in the hopes you might arrive at it on your own. “Perhaps the fact that you want to leave, is why you have to stay. You care about him,” she affirmed.

Killian nodded, struggling to find the words. “His mother is adamant to keep him away from me, which she is in her right to do, as it was a closed adoption. If I stay, even if it’s to try to help them mend things, who knows what she’ll do.”

Mary Margaret gave him an understanding smile, her soft features showing a peculiar strength underneath her warm exterior. “But who will protect Henry if you leave?”

And that was the question Killian had no answer for.

/-/

He rapped his knuckles against the door frame, his most smug smile plastered on his face. Regina lifted her eyes from her work, not even trying to hide the displeasure at finding him there.

“What do you want?” she almost spat at him. “I thought you’d be out of town by now, ignoring the pending charges against you.”

Killian smirked, crossing the room with as much swagger as he could muster, his eyes never once leaving Regina’s. It unsettled her, he could tell. If he wasn’t mistaken, there was a quick flash of fear before she schooled her features again. He stopped by her desk and gently placed the bottle of rum he’d acquired at the local store.

“I’m not planning to escape any charges and I have all intentions of making it to my court date.” He cleared his throat and enjoyed the way her eyes narrowed in annoyance. “I feel we’ve started on the wrong foot here, Miss Mills. Please accept this humble gift as a token of goodwill. A peace offering.” He’d lowered his voice and made it as smooth and un-intimidating as possible, whilst still maintaining some resolve.

Regina tilted her head to look at the bottle before she gave him a condescending smile. “I don’t do rum.”

“Well, you might want to consider trying it. It really does help release the tension.” He cocked a scandalous eyebrow at her, letting the innuendos settle in the air between them.

“What do you really want, Mr. Jones?” Regina said in a clipped tone, trying to contain the rage in her words and failing at it.

“If you think a terrible frame job is enough to scare me off, think again, Madam Mayor,” Killian said calmly. “I had no intention of coming between you and your boy. I really did just want to see for myself that the lad was alright. But the fact that you’ve tried to scare me out of town? Makes me think perhaps I need to stay for a little while, and see what happens.” He took a few steps back, his eyes never leaving Regina’s. “I know it’s what his mother would have wanted. “

He could see the instant effect his barb had on the woman in front of him, but in that moment he couldn’t bring himself to care. He wasn’t one to provoke a fight if he could help it, but this was one instance where backing away wasn’t an option. There was too much at stake. So he was going to stay. He’d stay in this town until he knew his son was okay. Until he knew Emma’s son was happy and loved and living the life he deserved. The life Killian and Emma never got to have.

“Goodnight, Regina,” he said before turning around and leaving her office without another word.

Dusk was breaking as he walked down Main Street, but he still had one last errand left to do.  Then he could crawl into the backseat of his car for the night, and let his memories wander towards the many other times in which he slept in that same car. Emma’s head resting on his shoulder and his hand tangled in her hair. That last _home_ he’d ever felt.

It wasn’t long until he found himself waiting outside the shrink’s building, two steamy to-go cups in his hands. Henry smiled only briefly when he spotted him. Killian tried very hard to quiet the frantic pace of his beating heart and bury deeply the need of grabbing the boy and take him far away from here. He settled for smiling back as he held out one of the cups. Henry grabbed it and took a sip, lips curving into a genuine smile.

“Hot cocoa with cinnamon. You remembered.” He beamed at Killian, as if his entire world was a better place just because he’d remembered his favorite drink.

Killian patted Henry’s head and gave him a stern smile. “Rule number one lad: never accept food or drinks from strangers.”

“But you're my dad,” Henry objected and Killian’s heart squeezed in his chest at the word. He closed his eyes for a brief moment, trying to get a handle on himself, but when he spoke again, he couldn’t quite keep the emotions at bay.

“Once again, Henry, rule number one: _never_ accept things from strangers, no matter who they are or how you think they won’t hurt you. Promise me?” he pleaded.

Henry nodded, “Okay.”

Killian sighed deeply, taking a sip from his own drink. There was a bench nearby and he started towards it, letting the lad follow him. “Rule number two: confrontation never leads to anything. _Especially_ when you’re at a disadvantage and you don’t hold all the cards.” He gave Henry a pointed look. “Aye?”

“Does this mean you’ll help break the curse?” Henry asked eagerly.

“I need time to understand all of this, lad. I won’t lie to you. I don’t necessarily believe in this curse… but I will stay, for a while.” Killian’s voice broke. “It- it’s what your mother would have wanted.” He smiled, his finger pointing at Henry’s cup. “She was actually the one that loved cinnamon in her cocoa. It was her favorite. “

“Would she have believed?” Henry asked, and that was all the permission Killian needed to cast his mind back to his memories of Emma.

_They’ve been hanging together for about a month, roaming the streets and lifting small things - wallets, snacks from convenience stores. Just enough for the two of them to get by, huddled close against each other in the backseat of the bug at night, trying to keep each other warm. Slowly, he’d realized how his touch lingered every time he was near her, the need to be closer to her in every sense invading his thoughts over and over. He’d been mesmerized by her from the moment he met her but there was nothing a poor sod like him had for her, other than the desire to keep her as safe as possible in the life they were living._

_But that afternoon, he’d struck some luck. He’d been following a mark, an old lady that seemed like easy prey to pickpocket but at the end he couldn’t go through with it. Instead he offered to carry the woman’s groceries for her, and she’d been so thankful she’d offered him some cash as a reward. He’d wanted to refuse, but he knew he could use that money for several things. He needed the money. Though something the woman had said stuck with him._

_“Use it to do something your heart desires.”_

_So he’d taken Emma to the movies to see an old Disney classic, and they’d splurged on popcorn and sodas. Later, as they walked through the night, passing the last of the soda back and forth, he’d asked her._

_“Do you believe in happy endings?”_

_“C’mon, Killian,” she scoffed. “Do you? What is there to believe? The goodness in people’s hearts? Destiny or fate or some almighty being making everything alright? I don’t believe in any of those things!”_

_He stopped short, the hopelessness in her voice breaking his heart. His hand reached for her arm and slowly, gently he brought her around to face him. “And what do you believe in, Swan?”_

_She gave him a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “I believe that people will always be out go get you. I believe that they will leave you behind in the blink of an eye when you’re no longer convenient. I believe in looking out for yourself, and you’ll never get hurt.” She fidgeted, her eyes averting to the floor, her voice nothing but a thin thread. “But lately…”_

_His heart beat frantically in his chest. “Lately what?”_

_She lifted her head, her green eyes meeting his, a small flicker of hope shining through. “Lately I’ve started to believe in you….”_

_“Emma…” he breathed, his hand moving to cradle her face as he leaned in and captured her lips with his. She threw her arms around his neck and he let the soda fall to the ground, gathering her up in his arms as he kissed her over and over._

Killian took a deep breath as he brought himself back to the present, a time where Emma was no longer by his side, a decade of broken dreams and sleepless nights. _And Henry._

“No,” he whispered, “Emma wasn't interested in fairytales. Nor happy endings. Neither of us were - are.” His eyes focused on Henry’s hopeless stare. “I’m sorry, lad. But I don’t want to lie to you. Your mother was many things, but a believer wasn’t one of them.”

“It’s okay,” Henry said as he drank his cocoa, his unwavering faith making Killian wish so badly Emma could be there with him to see it. “I’ll believe enough for the three of us.”

“Aye,’ he said, reaching up to clap the boy on the back. “You do that, Henry.”


	4. Chapter IV

Killian shuffled in the driver’s seat of his Bug, his knees bending uncomfortably as his eyes squinted to read the local newspaper classified section by the glow of the streetlights, trying to find a place to live.  The actions brought back memories of all the times he’d spent doing the exact same thing in the past decade. In every new town there had been several sleepless nights in his Bug, searching for a new apartment, with nothing but a duffel bag in the trunk and the hope that one day he’d find her.

_Until he’d realized he was chasing nothing but a ghost from time long past, and he’d stopped looking._

A soft rap on the window broke him out of his reverie.

Killian shifted around in his seat to see Mary Margaret standing out on the street, looking at him with nothing but sincere concern. He rolled down the window from the driver's seat and she tilted her head. “Hey, are you okay?”

The familiarity he’d felt around her previously tried to creep its way back, but he kept it at bay, determined not to let himself get any more involved in these people’s lives. He pulled on his trademark _everything is fine_ smirk. “Don’t you worry about me, lass. In the world of tight spots and inconvenient situations, sleeping in this old vessel doesn’t even make the top of the list.”

“You’re sleeping _here_?” She sounded so appalled at the notion that Killian couldn’t help the sheepish smile that came to his face.

“Only until I find something more suitable,” he promised, hoping she’d take his word for it and let him be. He didn’t need another pitiful stare or apologetic smile. If he had a dime for every one of those he’d ever gotten, he’d be a rich man.

“You decided to stay. For Henry.” Mary Margaret sounded so proud that it tugged at Killian’s heart. But it seemed impolite to continue sitting in his car when there was a lady standing by, with no apparent intention of leaving him to his own musings, so he quickly dropped the newspaper and exited the Bug.

“Aye… perhaps. But it seems this town doesn’t have any available vacancies. Not even a single one,” he sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“It must be the curse,” Mary Margaret offered jokingly.

He chuckled before he noticed the hour on the clock. “You’re out late, milady,” he said, cocking a suggestive eyebrow.

She closed her cardigan tighter around her chest. “I’m a teacher, not a nun. I had a date,” she pronounced with a sigh of defeat escaping her lips.

“Didn’t go well, I take it?” he prodded, not wanting to intrude, but sensing that she might want a chance to unburden.

She shrugged. “As well as they ever do.”

“Do you want me to beat the bloody ponce?” he offered politely, finding that in that moment he very much meant it. There was something about her sad demeanor that made Killian want to punch someone. She shook her head and bit her lower lip. “I guess if true love were easy, we’d all have it.”

The words rang true in him, his smile faltering at the memories.  Blonde hair tangled in his fingers, his nose buried at the hollow of her throat, his arms pulling her tighter to him as they battled the demons of their childhood together in the backseat of that same car.

Mary Margaret tilted her head, reading him like an open book.  “You had it… didn’t you? Was it Henry’s mother?”

“ _Emma_ ,” he breathed her name as a prayer. The same way he’d done all those nights as he’d pleaded with the universe for her to come back to him. “Her name was Emma,” he said, clearing his throat. “I’m not sure if I’d call it true love because I don't quite believe in that… but it was love.” He sounded defeated, even to himself, like a man that had given up hope of ever finding that again. Because he knew he’d never find it. Not with another.

She let the silence stretch for a minute. “You know, if things get cramped, I do have a spare room.”

“Mary Margaret, that could be perceived as wildly inappropriate-” he stated vehemently but she cut him off. 

“Are you planning to make a move on me?” she asked directly.

“No, not at all,” he answered quickly, finding also that he meant it. He was no stranger to resorting to finding a woman that might be willing to let him into her bed for a night. It would mean that he was in for not just enjoyable activities, but a comfortable mattress, a pillow and warm blankets for a few hours. Sometimes even a hot shower.  It had been something he’d done a while ago, before he was able to build himself the life he now had in Boston. If it could be considered a life. But he’d always leave at the break of dawn, morning afters being the one thing he just couldn’t stomach. He never had morning afters, not ever since he’d lost Emma.

Mary Margaret lifted one shoulder in a careless stance. “Then let them talk - Mary Margaret Blanchard went on a date, and after that she went home with the same dark haired stranger that trashed the town sign.”

He laughed, the first genuine laugh he’d had since he’d arrived into town. “I can only imagine the gossip.”

“Besides, I can’t have my son sleeping in a car. What kind of mother would I be?” she joked.

“You’re too young and pretty to be my mother. Perhaps a younger sister,” he said in a flirty tone, using the compliment to deflect her attention, but Mary Margaret wasn’t so easily distracted. Killian started fidgeting, finding very hard to keep his armor under her stare. He finally relented.

“Only for tonight… then I’ll find something else.” He lifted his hand before she could speak. “And I’ll cook breakfast tomorrow.”

“Works for me,” she beamed at him and he sighed, turning his back and making his way back to the Bug.

“Well, at least let me offer you a ride home,” he said, pulling open the passenger door for her.

/-/

“I found your father, Prince Charming.”

The words were like a ton of bricks and Killian was glad he was sitting on the rail of that battered old playground, because otherwise his knees would probably had given way underneath him. Henry sat next to him in street clothes, that blasted leather-bound book open on his knees.

“Henry,” Killian sighed, but the lad cut him off, holding the book up to show a drawing of a sandy haired man.

“He doesn’t look like me.” No matter what Dr. Hopper said, Killian didn’t want to indulge Henry in this fantasy, but he couldn’t help the remark coming to his lips. He really didn’t look like the man. _At all_.

“You take after Snow White,” Henry shrugged, and Killian tilted his head. He could see that… maybe, a little. He and Mary Margaret both had dark hair and a strong complexion… He quickly shook his head, almost embarrassed that he’d gotten carried away by the lad’s fantasies.

Henry didn’t seem to have noticed, too busy studying the illustration. “He’s in a hospital, in a coma. See the scar?” he asked, his finger pointing to a noticeable cut on Prince Charming’s chin. “Can you see it? The guy in the hospital has one too!”

“So? A lot of people have scars,” Killian explained. “Even meself, I have one right here.” His fingers instinctively reached up to traced the line on his right cheek, but he quickly thought better of it and lowered his hand again.  He didn’t want to get into further details with Henry, as it hadn’t been a happy tale. He’d learned the hard way in his first foster home that not everyone was like the Joneses. Actually, no one had been like the Joneses.

“In the same place?” Henry insisted stubbornly, his voice almost faltering as he felt he was stating the obvious. “Don’t you see what this means? The curse is keeping them apart with the coma. Now they’re stuck without each other. We have to tell Miss Blanchard we found her Prince Charming!” His voice sounded so hopeful that Killian almost wanted to believe him. But he’d also seen Mary Margaret’s disheartened face last night after coming from her date, and he simply couldn’t do that to her. It seemed too cruel to put such ideas in her head, only to have them crushed in the end.

“Lad,” he sighed, “telling someone their soulmate is in a coma is probably not helpful. Not having a happy ending is painful enough, but giving someone unrealistic hope is far worse.” His hand reached for Henry’s arm in a comforting gesture.

“But what if I’m right? We know who they are. Now they have to know!”

“How?” Killian wasn’t even sure how he’d gotten caught up in this entire ordeal until Henry gave him that look he knew so well. That look he hadn’t seen in a decade. That look that was all pleading without really asking.

“By _reminding_ him. We have to get her to read their story to John Doe. Then, maybe, he’ll remember who he is.”

Killian had to admire the lad’s resilience. He wouldn't stop trying until he’d gotten his way. He reminded him so much of Emma, that same strong will that simply refused to give up. He’d loved that in Emma - her fierce and strong conviction that things would bent her way or she’d make them - and seeing their son - _her son_ \- turn out the same way ripped yet another tear in his battered heart.

He was torn: he knew he was helpless to deny Henry’s wishes - just as he had been to Emma’s, but at the same time he had no desire to bring any more heartache Mary Margaret’s way. Perhaps, if he tried this from another angle, it would be a good way to ease the lad into the truth - the disheartening truth that Henry refused to accept. How he wished he could just wave a hand and heal his son’s troubled heart.

“Alright,” he agreed, and Henry’s answering smile was almost heartbreakingly blinding. “But it will be done my way. I will ask her, aye?”

/-/

It wasn’t easy to approach Mary Margaret, but Killian sucked it up, bottled his own conflicted feelings. He simply proposed the idea as he stood in her kitchen, nursing a warm mug of hot chocolate in his hands.

“You want me to read to a coma patient?” She sounded skeptical, her eyes squinting in confusion. “I know my dating record is bad, but this-”

“Henry thinks it will help him remember who he was,” Killian tried to explain, taking a small sip of the hot drink she’d prepared. _Damn, that woman made a killer hot chocolate._

“And who does he think he was?” she asked in her best teacher tone.

Killian fidgeted under her gaze as if he were a little lad. “Prince Charming.”

Mary Margaret’s eyes widened slightly. “And if I’m Snow White, he thinks me … and him… and _you…”_

“He has a very active imagination,” Killian offered with slight discomfort. “Which is the point, to be honest. I can’t disregard his beliefs without breaking his heart, so I thought that perhaps if we merely showed him... You don’t have to do much, just play along just this once and perhaps...” he trailed off, hoping Mary Margaret might take the hint.

“He might see that fairytales are just that. That there’s no such thing as love at first sight or first kiss.”

Killian felt a stab of guilt in his chest at her words, because for him there _had_ been such a thing as love at first sight. And in the end it had brought him nothing but endless torment and heartache. Mary Margaret took a sip of her cocoa before speaking again. “He’ll see reality,” she finished, her tone as defeated as Killian felt. But he had to do what was best for Henry.

“Something like that,” he whispered softly.

“Sadly, it’s a good plan. You’d ease him into the truth without hurting him. It’s - it’s a good thing, Killian,” she offered reassuringly.

He pulled the book and handed it to her. “I told him we will meet you tomorrow for breakfast at Granny’s and you’d give us a full report.”

“Oh well, I suppose I’ll get ready for my date. I guess I’ll have to do all the talking,” she said sighing.

“And yet, I get the feeling that it would be an improvement over your last one?” He cocked an eyebrow, and Mary Margaret chuckled.

“I’ll be sure to say to your father that you send your regards,” she teased back.

“Please, I look nothing like the man!” Killian said affronted.

Mary Margaret shook her head from side to side, a small smile coming to her lips before she looked at him with a serious expression. “Do you have a place to stay tonight? You’re more than welcome to-”

“Oh no, it’s fine. I found a place,” he said quickly, lying through his teeth even as he plastered a smile on his face. He couldn’t keep doing this, growing attached to the people in this town. Not when he was planning to leave as soon as he was sure Henry was okay.

Something in her smile told him that she had seen right through him, but she chose to let it slide.

“My door is always open if you need it, Killian,” she finished softly and he gave her a small smile and a nod of his head before leaving her apartment.

/-/

The next morning Killian sat at one of the booths at Granny’s, his hand tugging at the sleeve of his black shirt, thanking the gods he’d always had a duffel bag packed and stored in the trunk of the Bug. Henry sat opposite him, helping himself to a hearty breakfast as they waited.

“Lad, where does your mother think you are?” he asked nonchalantly.

“Playing Whac-A-Mole,” he beamed, too proud of himself for Killian’s taste. A small tinge of regret reached him. He didn’t want to cause even more problems between Henry and her mother, and he certainly didn’t want to encourage Henry to lie to her. He’d only wished he could sort this situation as quickly as possible so he could say his heartfelt - and probably very painful - goodbye and let them be in peace. As it was intended when they signed the adoption papers.

“She believed you?” he asked concerned.

“She wants to believe it, so she does,” Henry said with a shrug of his shoulders.

_It seemed the apple didn’t fall far from the tree._

“Oh, imagine that. Henry, it’s not okay to lie to your mother-” Killian started to say but the rest of the sentence was cut off when the doorbell jingled, and Mary Margaret entered the diner.

“She’s here,” Henry announced, almost bouncing out of the booth.

“Henry, keep calm, aye? We’re just getting started,” Killian advised as he watched Mary Margaret made her way hastily towards their booth and slide over to sit beside Henry.

“He woke up!” she announced and Killian’s smile faltered on his face.

“I knew it!” Henry cheered excitedly.

“What?” Killian asked dumbfounded.

“He didn’t ‘wake up’ wake up, but he grabbed my hand,” Mary Margaret corrected, speaking hastily, her eyes shining in a way that gave Killian a very bad feeling about this entire ordeal.

“He’s remembering!” Henry announced, so sure of himself that Killian felt even more at unease.

“What did the doctor say?” Killian asked.

“That I imagined it,” Mary Margaret confessed in a small voice. “But I’m not crazy. I know it happened.” There was vehemence in her voice, and Killian tried to make sense of what she was saying.

“We have to go back. You have to read to him again!” Henry said excitedly.

Mary Margaret seemed thoughtful for a second. “Let’s go!” she announced finally and she and Henry got up and started to exit the booth. Killian sat there for one more second, wondering what in the blazes was going on.

“Wait!” he called for Mary Margaret and she turned around.

“If I got through to him, if we made a connection-” she started.

“You really don’t believe…” Killian began hesitantly.

“That he’s Prince Charming?” Mary Margaret asked, lowering her tone so Henry couldn’t hear her. “Of course not! But somehow, in some way, I touched him. We made a connection.” Her eyes were filled with hope.

“Mary Margaret, please don’t - I don't want you to get hurt,” he said softly.

“It will be okay,” she beamed before turning around and following Henry out the door.

Killian couldn’t do nothing but trail after them, his mind racing at the rapid turn of events.

_Bloody hell. This hadn’t gone according to plan._

/-/

Mary Margaret and Henry rushed through the hospital entrance, Killian following a few steps behind, still trying to wrap his head around the recent events.

“You’re right - he’s waking up!” Henry announced excitedly, making his way towards the hospital bedroom.

The sheriff stood there, talking to some of the doctors. He quickly turned around when he noticed Henry, leaning over to stop the child from advancing any further.

“Henry, you should stay back,” he said hastily.

“What’s going on? Is it John Doe? Is he okay?” Mary Margaret’s almost tripped on her words, the concern palpable in her voice.

Graham lifted his eyes to Killian’s and he could see his hesitation. “He’s missing.”

Graham turned around slowly, and it was only then that Killian caught a glimpse of the hospital room behind him, and the sight of Regina standing by the vacant bed, talking to the doctors. _Oh, bollocks_. Her expression was stern as she made her way over.

“What the hell are you all doing here?” When her eyes fixated on Henry, Killian could see the sheer disappointment in them - and underneath that, he could sense the heartbreak.

Regina pulled Henry by his sleeve. “I thought you were at the arcade. Now you’re lying to me?” Her voice broke at the end of the sentence, and Killian felt bad for her.

“What happened to John Doe? Did someone take him?” Mary Margaret asked, seemingly oblivious to anything else going on around her that didn’t involve the man currently missing from his bed.

“We don’t know yet,” Graham sighed, his eyes darting once again between the teacher and Killian. “His IVs were ripped out, but there’s no sure sign there was a struggle.”

“What did you do?” Henry glared at Regina, pronouncing his words with such venom that Killian reacted instinctively.

“Henry!” he admonished, taking everyone - including Regina and himself - by surprise. “That’s no way to talk to your mother, lad.”

There was a brief, fleeting moment in which he thought that something that resembling gratitude might’ve crossed Regina’s face, but she quickly schooled her features as she addressed her son.

“You think I had something to do with this?” she asked, trying to mask the hurt in her tone and failing at it.

“Why are you even here?” Henry accused. He didn’t seem to realize how his words were affecting his mother, and Killian felt honorbound to intervene. Henry’s fantasies might be the way he communicated his complex emotions around the events in his life, but Regina Mills had adopted Henry, and she deserved a little more respect than what she was getting right now.

“Henry,” he chided. “Your mother is the Mayor, she surely needs to be informed when something happens that might put this town or its inhabitants at risk.” He offered a polite smile to Regina, but it seemed his attempts at peacemaking were no longer welcome.

“That is correct,” she pointed out, straightening her dress. “And I’m also his emergency contact.”

“You know him?” Mary Margaret asked, with a mix of hope and curiosity.

“I found him. On the side of the road years ago with, no ID. I’m the one who brought him here.”

“Mayor Mills saved his life,” the doctor agreed, stepping forward to join the fray.

“Will he be okay?” Mary Margaret inquired, voice laced with concern.

“Okay? The man’s been on feeding tubes for years, under constant supervision. He needs to get back here ASAP or, quite honestly, ‘okay’ might be a pipe dream.” The doctor’s reasoning was sound enough, but there was something about the man that rubbed Killian the wrong way. Something about how his gaze lingered just a second too long after Mary Margaret had turned away.

“Well, we shouldn’t waste any time then,” Killian pronounced, and all eyes turned to him.

“ _We_?” Regina repeated in disbelief. “Just stay out of it, dear.  And since I clearly can’t keep you away from my son, I guess I’m just going to have to keep my son away from you.” She shot him a condescending look over her shoulder, and Killian clenched his jaw to prevent him from speaking and alienating the woman even further.

“Sheriff!” she ordered.  “Find John Doe. You heard Dr. Whale. Time is precious.”  Then before anyone could contradict her, she turned and left the room, dragging Henry behind her, the staccato beat of her high heels against the tile floor echoing down the corridor.

“Doctor, how long between your rounds since you last saw him?” Graham inquired.

“Twelve hours or so.”

Graham gave Killian a pointed look. “Then that’s what we need to account for.”

Killian nodded, following the sheriff as they made their way towards the security room. Regina might have wanted him to mind his own business, but Graham clearly had other ideas. And since Killian had been the one to drag Mary Margaret into this mess in the first place, he was hardly in a position to refuse his assistance.

/-/

This town was going to be the death of him. Of that, Killian was certain. They were clearly unprepared for anything like this, and the amount of recklessness in the way these people conducted both the security and their searches made Killian wonder how anything got done in the first place. If he had ever been as sloppy in his bailbonds job as these people were about remembering details and descriptions, he’d have starved to death long ago. There had been a mix up with the security footage, which was just another unnecessary delay to their search. Luckily they got him to set the records straight as he figured out that it was the wrong tape and they eventually got their hands on the right tape, and figured out John Doe had left the hospital on his own, headed in the direction of the woods.

When they finally hit the woods it was clear they’d entered Graham’s turf, as the sheriff took over on the tracking side of things, leading them down a series of old hiking trails none of the rest of them even knew existed. Killian had to admit he was impressed by the expertise with which Graham conducted this part of the search.

“He’s clearly in his element,” Killian commented as he and Mary Margaret waited for Graham to pick up the trail again.

“Isn’t finding people your thing, too?” Mary Margaret asked confused.

“Aye, but the people I usually search for escape to places like Vegas or Atlantic City. I don’t think they’d even know how to hike in the woods. Let alone hide in them and survive.”

Mary Margaret tilted her head, wearing that quizzical look he was starting to fear from her. “How’d you fall into it? Finding people?”

Killian’s smile faltered, the memories hitting him like waves crashing on the shore. “Looking for people is what I do, what I’ve done my whole life.”

“Was it your parents?” she asked with an apologetic tone as she noticed Killian’s uncomfortable stance. “Henry mentioned that your parents - that your situations were similar.”

“You could say that,” Killian nodded, aware of certain similarities between his story and Henry’s. But he hadn’t thought of his birth parents in a long time. Granted, they had been on his mind constantly when he’d bounced from home to home, sick with grief and sadness over losing the only family he ever knew. Before that, his birth parents hadn’t been on his mind. The truth was, Killian had parents in his life. His parents were Isobel and Brennan Jones. His brother was Liam Jones. And they hadn’t abandoned him at the side of the road. They had never meant to leave him behind. They had died. It wasn’t the same. The people that left him at the side of a road where not the reason he excelled at finding people. “But it wasn’t - it wasn’t them,” he said with a sad, barely audible voice.

Realization dawned on Mary Margaret’s face. “ _Oh_ ,” she said. “Was it her? Henry’s mom? Emma?”

Killian swallowed and nodded slowly. Whichever words he was weaving to get himself out of this conversation, and push back the pain that had started to creep back were cut off by the sound of branch snapping behind them. Killian and Mary Margaret both turned around, to find Henry trailing behind them.

“Did you find him yet?” he asked eagerly.

Killian cocked an eyebrow at him. “Henry what are you doing here? We’re in the middle of the woods, this is dangerous ground-” he trailed off. Gods, he sounded like his father when he used to scold him and Liam for sneaking out to the creek that ran behind their house.

Henry didn’t show a single ounce of regret at being there. At least Killian and Liam had known how to pull an acting face to save themselves from a bigger punishment. “I can help. I know where he’s going!”

“Where?” Mary Margaret asked and Killian made a mental note to have a talk with her later. If he was staying in town to ensure Henry’s well-being - as Mary Margaret had been encouraging him to do - then she was going to help him by getting Henry to stop running around directly into danger’s path, and listen to his mother for a change.

“He’s looking for _you_ ,” Henry explained to her, as though that should have been obvious. But instead of dismissing the idea as ridiculous, which it clearly was, Mary Margaret didn’t say anything at all. She just nodded slightly, the flare of hope in Henry’s eyes making Killian want to tear his own hair out.

/-/

Graham returned a few minutes later, announcing that he’d picked up a fresh trail. He looked surprised to see Henry with them, but no one suggested turning back. Instead they pressed on into the wilderness together, flashlights on their hands as night started to fall upon them. Killian kept his eyes carefully trained on Henry, trying to ensure the lad’s safety in the darkening woods. But if Henry was aware of the dangers, he didn’t seem concerned, growing more excited by the minute over the possibility of John Doe being Prince Charming.

“You’re the one who woke him up,” he insisted, his flashlight beam dancing erratically across the undergrowth as he moved his arms back and forth. “You’re the last one he saw in the Enchanted Forest. He wants to find you!”

“Henry, this is not about me.” It seemed that Mary Margaret had finally come to her senses, her voice soft and comforting as she addressed Henry. “I think he’s lost and confused. He’s been in a coma a long time.”

“But he loves you!” Henry insisted stubbornly, growing agitated, his little voice shaking with his need to be understood. “You need to stop chasing him, and let him find you.”

“Lad...” Killian sighed, trying to be understanding of Henry’s feelings, but also feeling the need to stop this nonsense. “You need to go home. This is no place for you, especially at night. Where’s your mother?” he asked worryingly. “She’s going to kill me the moment she finds out. And then you. And then probably me again.”

“She dropped me at the house. Then went right out,” Henry explained, and part of Killian wanted to kick Regina for not taking into account her son’s propensity for running away. He was after all his and Emma’s son, and if there was one thing they both had been, it was runners. It seemed Henry had picked up that trait effortlessly.

“We need to get you back home immediately,” Killian decided, exchanging a short look with Mary Margaret and motioning for Henry to turn back with him.

“No!” Henry yelled, and Killian was taken aback by the sheer intensity of his voice. He opened his mouth to say something, when Graham’s shout filtered through the trees.

“Guys!”

 Killian and Mary Margaret wasted no time running in the direction of Graham’s voice, Henry right behind them. They entered the clearing to find the Sheriff bent over, his flashlight illuminating a small, shiny object caught on a rock.

As Killian came closer he could see it for what it was, a hospital wristband. John Doe’s hospital wristband.

It was caked in mud and spluttered with… something else. He leaned in to get a closer look, his worst fears confirmed.

“Is that…?” Mary Margaret asked with a thin voice.

“Blood,” Killian confirmed, leaning back. 

Things became somewhat frantic after that. Killian kept up the pace, but let Graham and Mary Margaret take the lead. They seemed to know what they were doing, and to him every tree, every rock, and every fallen log looked the same as the last. Eventually they arrived at what seemed to be some sort of creek or river with a small bridge spanning across it.

“Where is he?” Mary Margaret asked, scouring the surroundings with her flashlight.

“The trail dies at the water line,” Graham replied grimly.

“Oh my god! Oh my god!” Killian turned around just as Mary Margaret tossed her flashlight aside, and headed towards the water line, where the body of John Doe lay sprawled.

Graham put his flashlight down too, and reached for his walkie-talkie. “I need an ambulance,” he yelled into the device. “At the old Toll Bridge, as soon as possible.” He cut the communication and made his way towards Mary Margaret.

Killian quickly glanced over Henry, who was looking visibly shaken at the sight. Killian leaned down to make sure the boy was listening to him, his words filled with as much authority as he could muster. “You stay here!” he ordered. He waited for the lad to nod his understanding, before turning to follow Graham.

Carefully, but hastily, the three of them managed to drag the man out of the water and laid him out on the ground. He was unconscious, and Killian couldn’t even tell if he was still alive.

“No, no, no, no, no! No, no, no! I found you!” Mary Margaret whispered, lost in her own self, her hands cradling his face. “It’s going to be okay,” she crooned, though to herself or to the man in her arms, Killian didn’t know.

“Help is coming,” Graham said in a way that was probably meant to be reassuring, leaning in to assess his vitals.

“Is he going to be okay?” Henry’s voice came small and fragile out of the dark, and in a moment Killian forgot everything else and ran back to where he’d left his son and pulled him into his arms.

“Henry, lad. Don’t look,” he said softly as he caressed his head, averting the kid’s eyes from the scene in front of them. He’d seen many things in his life by the time he was Henry’s age - things that still haunted him during the long nights-, things he definitely wanted to spare his son from seeing. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Mary Margaret started chest compressions.

“Come back to us. Come back to me,” she whispered before leaning in to give him mouth-to-mouth. It had been a long night and everything was half in shadow, with most of their flashlights lying forgotten in the mud, but Killian could’ve sworn that the respiratory assistance ended with a desperate kiss from Mary Margaret. But perhaps he was just imagining things. It could be the day playing tricks on him.

The man started coughing, and Killian sighed in relief. His shoulders sagged while Graham let out what sounded like a whoop of joy. But when John Doe finally opened his eyes, it was only Mary Margaret that he saw.

“You saved me,” he whispered in a throaty voice, and Mary Margaret smiled through her tears.

“She did it! She woke him up,” Henry said, amazed at what he was seeing and his voice carrying a hope that Killian couldn’t bring himself to snuff out. Not at this very moment. It was all far-fetched and _impossible_ , but at this moment, he was running out of reasons not to believe. Not when Mary Margaret had brought a coma patient back to life by the sheer force of her voice and her kiss.

“It seems so, lad.”

“Who are you?” Mary Margaret asked, her fingers still tracing a pattern down the man’s cheek.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, his eyes never leaving hers.

“It’s okay,” she said, grasping for his hand. “You’re going to be okay.”

/-/

It was a short ride to the hospital, and the four of them rushed behind the stretcher that carried the patient back into the care of the doctors. Their faces were pressed against the glass as they witnessed how he was monitored. A blonde woman frantically passed them by, desperately calling the name _David_ and entering the room. Whale tried to intervene but she refused to leave, tears coming to her eyes.

“Who is she?” Mary Margaret asked confused, and a sudden sense of dread came over Killian.

“His _wife_.”

He turned around to find Regina standing behind them with a calculated stare. Killian almost gasped at the information. He hadn’t seen that one coming. “His name is David Nolan. And that’s his wife, Kathryn.”

It didn’t make any sense.

He listened as Kathryn tearfully recounted her story, about her and David growing apart years ago, the strain on their marriage, her belief that he had left town long ago. Her happiness to have found him again, and the second chance she was given to make things right.

It didn’t add up, and yet Killian couldn’t find a hint of a lie in the telling of it. As far as Kathryn Nolan was concerned, s was telling the truth. And he could see how it had visibly shattered Mary Margaret’s heart with every new word she’d spoken.

_And it was all his bloody fault._

Whale came back and confirmed David was in good health, but his memory was affected and his wife excused herself to be by his side.

“Well,” Regina said, “The joy on her face has put me in quite the forgiving mood.” Her eyes focused on Henry. “We’ll talk about your insubordination at home. Do you know what insubordination means? It means you’re grounded.”

Henry made a face as if he wanted to contest the decision, and Killian couldn’t help himself. “Your mother is right, Henry. You can’t run away from her like that into the woods. It was dangerous and reckless.”

Henry’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, but Killian held his ground. He leveled his eyes with his son’s hazel ones, and for a moment he almost faltered at that pleading look - he’d been powerless against Emma when she had that look. “Rule number 3: You do not you leave your house without permission, ‘specially to wander around in the woods at night.”

His eyes darted to Regina’s dumbfounded face before he spoke again. “You could have gotten hurt, lad.”

Regina swallowed hard before she looked at her son. “Go wait in the car, Henry, I’ll be right there.”

Killian could see Henry leaning to grab his backpack and using the opportunity to whisper something to Mary Margaret. He couldn’t hear what, but the pain evident on the woman’s face was enough for him to figure it out. Once Henry was out of the room, Regina spoke again.

“We have you to thank for all this, Mr. Jones,” she announced and Killian could feel Mary Margaret’s shocked eyes on him.

“Me?”

“That tape you found was a stroke of genius. So, we went back and looked at past tapes. Turns out Mr. Doe’s been talking in his sleep. He’s been calling out for a Kathryn. After that, it wasn’t hard to put the pieces together.” Regina shrugged, her eyes looking directly at Mary Margaret. “True love won out. So bask in the moment, dear. Were it not for you two, Kathryn and David would have lived their lives completely alone. That’s why I’m willing to forgive your meddling today. Because all this has reminded me of something oh-so very important. How grateful I am to have Henry. Because not having someone? Well, that’s the worst curse imaginable.”  
  
He couldn’t tell if the words were directed to him, to Mary Margaret or to the both of them. But they sliced through him anyway, like a sharp edged knife.

“I only want what’s best for Henry, Madam Mayor,” Killian professed, hoping that she could see that he had no intention to take him away from her. He just wanted to help Henry get better so he could go back to Boston with a clear conscience.

“Then you should leave,” Regina said with finality, before turning around and walking away. It was all Killian could do to stare after her, measuring the truth of her words, not able to stand the shattered look on Mary Margaret’s face as she watched Kathryn fold into David’s arms.

He’d done this. He’d given her false hope, and now her world was crumbling around her. He had to make it right.

_I can’t leave. Not now. Not yet._

/-/

He stood by the green wooden door, shuffling his feet, trying to find the courage to knock. Regina’s words kept resonating within him, another set of memories coming back to him. He’d concealed those reminiscences in the back of his mind for so long, but now it was almost impossible to keep them at bay.

_“Killian!” she’d laughed, trying hard to keep away from him as he chased her. He finally caught up with her, lifting her effortlessly by the waist and spinning around on the spot._

_“Stop, I’m getting dizzy!” she pleaded._

_“Liar!” he replied, but he’d stopped anyway, placing her carefully back down on the ground. She stumbled a little before she regained her footing. “You seem to forget, Swan, that I can tell when someone is lying to me.” His hand reached for hers and she let him pull her back into his arms._

_“Your superpower,” she said, cocking an eyebrow at him. “The one you love to brag about.”_

_He tilted his head, “It is one of my qualities, isn’t it?”_

_“Bragging?”_

_He chuckled. “Knowing when someone is telling me the truth.”_

_She bit her lower lip, her green eyes boring into his. “So if I tell you something now, something I haven’t told anyone, you’ll know if I’m telling you the truth, right?”_

_His heart missed a beat, concern marring his features. “Swan, what is it? Are you in trouble? Is that why you ran away?”_

_She shook her head, a shy smile coming to her lips. “It’s something else, Killian.” She tilted her head, waiting for him to reply to her original question. “Would you be able to tell if I really mean it?” she wondered aloud._

_“Yes, I’d be able to tell,” he confirmed, his heart beating frantically in his chest._

_She leaned into him, her smile the brightest he’d ever seen it. “I love you.”_

_Three words. Three simple words that had changed his life forever._

_He never took his eyes away from hers, even as he leaned in to rest his forehead against hers. “I love you too, Swan.”_

He pulled himself together, taking a deep breath as he hoisted his duffle bag over his shoulder, and reached out to knock on the door.

Mary Margaret answered almost immediately, her red-rimmed eyes confirming Killian’s greatest fear.

“Is that spare room still available?” he asked with a tilt of his head, his tongue darting out in a cheesy attempt at bad flirting.

It seemed to work, as she chuckled. “What happened with wildly inappropriate?”

He shrugged. “Well, you’re not planning to make a move on me, are you?”

Her smile was small but sincere, and Killian counted that as a victory. “Come in,” she said softly, opening the door and moving to the side to let him by.

He crossed the threshold in two strides, dropping the duffel to the floor and reached for her, pulling her into a hug. “It’d be okay,” he said, letting her sink into his embrace, “ _Mom_ ,” he finished with a mocking whisper.

She chuckled again, squeezing him tighter. “Thank you, Killian.”

“Any time.”


	5. Chapter V

**  
** “We need code names,” Henry announced the next morning as they were walking towards the school bus stop. Killian had spent half of the night tossing and turning in his - new and quite comfortable - bed, debating whether or not he should be antagonizing Regina so publicly by walking the lad to the bus. He knew he should lay low, set some boundaries, and try to maintain his distance.

_But he didn’t want to._

It had been the entire purpose of his stay to ensure Henry’s well-being - he could now add helping Mary Margaret overcome her disappointment to that list - and Killian couldn’t do that if he was hiding out in Mary Margaret’s guest room. So he was done hiding. Regina could come looking for him if she wanted to and perhaps - _perhaps-_ he could explain again what his purpose was.

“Isn’t _‘Cobra’_ our code name?” Killian asked, confused.

“That’s the _mission_. I mean _us_. I need something to call you.” Henry’s voice was small at the end, his eyes darting insecurely to Killian and he knew the lad wasn’t talking just about the mission. He swallowed hard, clenching his jaw and fighting with himself against the urge to give Henry what he wanted so desperately. He couldn’t. He _shouldn’t_.

“How about you call me Killian for now?” The disappointment on Henry’s face almost tore him apart. How many times could a heart break and still work? Killian’s heart had broken a decade ago, but then it had remained dormant for such long time he’d almost forgotten how it felt when the pain reached inside him and made it almost impossible to breathe. Yet, in the last three days his heart had been awoken, and quickly resumed its usual task of bringing him nothing but ache at every single decision he made.

Henry nodded, his head hanging low in defeat for a brief second. But he was a brave lad, his boy - _Emma’s boy_ \- and Killian could see the kid’s walls building back up before he gave Killian a dashing smile. “Okay, then. I’ll see you later, Killian.” The last word might have been his name, but the intent in which he pronounced left nothing to his imagination. He could hear the word Henry _wanted_ to say resonating in his mind as the lad hopped on the bus.

It was only the sirens of the patrol car what shook Killian out of his musings, as it sped past him, before turning abruptly into the mouth of the alley in front of him. It stopped there, and the sheriff stepped out, his sights set on Killian.

“Was the siren really needed? Do you feel the need to overcompensate for _something_ , mate?” Killian asked, cocking an eyebrow at the sheriff. Perhaps he shouldn’t be pulling Graham’s leg like this, but he needed a distraction from his own mind.

“Funny, Jones.” Graham shrugged. “I just felt it was a good way to get your attention, you seemed a little lost in your own thoughts back there.”

Killian didn’t appreciate the way Graham was able to read his mood so quickly. “Are you arresting me again? Did the Mayor found another local ordinance I’m infringing? It can’t be a law against leather jackets,” he said, pointing out Graham’s attire. “Unless it’s against black ones?”

Graham chuckled and let a few moments pass. “Are you done?” he asked, cocking an eyebrow and Killian nodded. “I’m here to thank you. For your help finding that coma patient. We all owe you a debt of gratitude.”

Killian couldn’t believe his ears, but Graham’s tone was sincere. It made him uncomfortable and he simply resorted to his usual method to avoid any type of closeness to people. “What do I get? A beer at the local ratty bar and a chance to play your wingman as you try to get a date?”

“How about a job?” That _clearly_ got Killian’s attention. “I could use a deputy.”

_Bloody hell._

“I _have_ a job, mate.”

“There isn’t much bail bonds work going on here.”

“There doesn’t seem to be much sheriffing going on either, if you can spend all this time chasing after the newcomer in town,” Killian pointed out.

“There’s work to do around here and, honestly, I could use someone like you at the station.”

“Someone like me?” Killian cocked an eyebrow at him - this was fast becoming an eyebrow-cocking contest, he noted -, not sure if he liked the implication of Graham’s words.

Graham lift his hands in a placating manner. “You’re street smart, and you think fast on your feet. Those are helpful traits to have in a deputy.” He reached for his wallet, pulled out a card and handed it over to Killian. “How about you think about it? It might be your chance to stay put for a while.” He nodded and took a step back, heading back to the driver’s seat of the patrol car.

Killian stood there, contemplating the card that he held in his fingers, a strange sensation running through him.

/-/

After leaving Henry on the bus, and for the lack of something - _anything_ \- better to do, Killian sat at Granny’s, perusing the local newspaper, a hot chocolate with whipped cream and cinnamon in front of him. Clearly this was _Small Town America_ ™ if the awakening of the coma patient had made the front page headline.

The doorbell jingled and he heard the distinctive click-clack of designer heels on the linoleum that could only announce the arrival of one person. “How was your walk with Henry?” Regina asked, waiting a heartbeat to give him a knowingly smile. “That’s right – I know everything. But relax. I don’t mind,” she finished almost smugly as she sat down opposite him at the table.

“You don’t?” Killian asked warily, the change in Regina’s attitude raising goosebumps on him.

“Because you no longer worry me, Mr. Jones,” she announced nonchalantly. “I did a little digging into who you are. And what I found well, let’s say it was quite soothing.”

He swallowed hard, his voice almost breaking at the words he spoke. “It was?”

“It all comes down to one simple number: Seven.”

“Seven?” Killian had an idea where this was going, but he still refused to let her see it was affecting him. He’d been masking his feelings for more than a decade, he could certainly put up a mask for the adoptive mother of his son.

“It’s the number of addresses you’ve had in the last decade. Your longest stay in a place was two years.” Regina quirked an eyebrow, as if she was rejoicing in the conversation. “Really, what did you enjoy so much about Portland, Oregon?”

_It wasn’t a what. It was who I was looking for._

He clenched his jaw, feigning indifference to her words as he played with the newspaper. “I have found accommodations in town,” he said in a small voice, almost ruminating the words.

“With Miss Blanchard?” Regina gave him a condescending chuckle. “That is going to grow old quickly, don’t you think? She doesn't seem like the type to catch your attention for long.”

He wasn’t sure which one she wanted to insult more with those insinuations, if his lack of commitment to a romantic relationship- or any type of bond, for that matter - or Mary Margaret’s inability to find someone that cared for her.

“That is not what this is-” he started to defend himself, but Regina cut him off with a dismissive wave of her hand.

“You still don’t have a lease. There’s nothing tying you here.” She crossed her arms over her chest and leaned on the chair. “In order for something to grow, Mr. Jones, it needs roots. And you? You don’t have any. People don’t change. They only fool themselves into believing they can.”

“You don’t know me,” he said calmly, trying very hard not to let his emotions get the best of him.

“No, I think I do. All I ask is, as you carry on your _transient_ life, you think of Henry and what’s best for him. Perhaps consider a clean break. It’s going to happen anyway.” She stood up, pleased with her words. “Enjoy your cocoa.”

“I’m here for Henry,” he said, hating the pleading tone in his voice. “Look, I’m not trying to do anything- I just want to help,” he finished, his eyes almost begging her to show some compassion.

But it seemed compassion was not on the list of Regina’s personality traits as she gave him one last look. “Sometimes I wonder… exactly how long did it take you to walk away from the mother of your child after you found out she was pregnant?”

He didn’t realize he’d punched the table with his fist until he felt the warm liquid of his cocoa splashing against his shirt. Ruby rushed to him with a cloth, but his button down was already past saving.

He sighed, his anger quickly turning to frustration with himself. “Do you have a laundry room I can use?”

After Ruby pointed him down the corridor, he wasted no time in making his way there, removing his black leather jacket and tossing it over the washing machines as he unbuttoned his shirt and threw it in in one of the available ones. He looked around for something to wear, his eyes landing on a light blue shirt hanging on a line. He hadn’t stolen clothes in twelve years, but bloody hell, old habits die hard, and it seemed today was not the day in which he was raising the bar.

It was only once he’d pulled the shirt over his shoulders that he noticed the wrecked sobs coming from somewhere behind him. He whirled around, hastily buttoning the shirt, to see a young girl sobbing in the corner while holding an armful of pink sheets.

“Are you okay, darling?” he asked politely.

“They’re pink,” she sobbed.

“Have you tried bleach?” he pointed out the obvious while trying to focus on his own things. It wasn’t like he wanted to get involved in yet another thing in this town. The girl shifted and it was then that he noticed her swollen belly. His heart dropped to the pit of his stomach, a sensation of dread rising in his throat.

“ _Oh_ ,” he whispered.

“Last night, I felt contractions and the doctor said that the baby could come any day now,” she said.

He turned around, pouring soap and activating the washing machine, trying to battle the memories and sensations that were coming to him.

“Wonderful,” he offered in a small voice.

“It’s just that, um, when the… When the baby comes, no one thinks that I can do this. No one thinks I can do anything. Maybe they’re right,” she sounded so young and small and _broken_ that it broke Killian’s heart in return.

He’d often wondered how Emma had felt when faced with the challenge of being pregnant at such young age, if she’d sounded like this when she decided she couldn’t do it.

He slowly turned to face the girl. “How old are you?”

“Nineteen,” she answered.

Killian gave her a small smile. “I was the same age. Henry’s mother - _biological_ mother - was eighteen.”

There was surprise in the girl’s look and Killian gave her a reassuring nod. He didn’t want to relive the moments that led to his decision to consent to the adoption, the pain and regret still soaking deep within his bones; but perhaps something good would come out of all that. At least he could help someone else.

“Everyone will have an opinion, lass. They will tell you what you’re capable of and what you’re incapable of - especially if you’re with child. But ultimately, the decision is yours: whether you keep it or you decide to give it up for adoption.”

“It’s not as easy as it looks.”

“It never is,” Killian sighed, running his head through his hair. “But if you want things to change, you have change them yourself. A man unwilling to fight for what he wants, deserves what he gets --- that’s what my Papa used to say.” He gave her a final reassuring smile before he finished rolling up the sleeves of his _borrowed_ shirt and grabbed his black leather jacket.

/-/

The rest of the day had gone by relatively uneventfully and the next morning finally brought to town the three boxes he’d asked his coworker to pack and send his way. He’d had to drive out to the nearest town to pick them up, as they didn’t have direct deliveries to Storybrooke, but nevertheless, it gave Killian a new sense of security.

He sat on the floor, his hands caressing the box that held his fondest trinkets and tokens, including his embroidered baby blanket - the one thing he had from when he’d been found as an infant.

“It feels so bloody good to have my things here,” he commented, as Mary Margaret came to stand next to him, setting a plate of snacks down on the table.

“That’s it?” she asked curiously.

“What do you mean?” Killian asked, getting a little defensive.

“Is the rest in storage, or is this really everything?”

“This is all of it,” he sighed, running a hand through his hair and reaching to scratch behind his ear. He’d been so used to keep his things to minimal possessions, so used to moving from one place to the next without time or space to carry much, that it’d been something that had stuck, even at an older age. Besides, he didn’t need to carry much, nothing was meaningful enough for him not to leave behind. “I’m not sentimental,” he offered as small explanation, hoping Mary Margaret was able to read between the lines and drop it.

She did. “I guess it makes it easier when you have to move,” she provided in return, a soft and understanding smile on her lips that made Killian feel better almost immediately.

There came a knock at the door, a development which seemed to confuse Mary Margaret - it seemed she wasn’t used to visitors on the weekends - and her confusion seemed to only grow when she answered the door.

“Miss Blanchard,” a voice that Killian couldn’t recognize said. “Would Mr. Jones be at home?”

The sound of his name made Killian stand up and quickly stride to the door, coming face to face with their visitor. He remembered him from the first night he’d spent at Granny’s, the man that was there to collect the rent. Killian had learnt later that he owned a pawn shop - and half of the town apparently.

“My name is Mr. Gold,” the man introduced himself, extending his hand. Killian took it and give it a firm shake, not liking the way it made him feel, as if something dark and poisonous had entered the room.

“I remember,” he said shortly, standing by the door and waiting for the other man to explain the reason of his appearance at his doorstep - well, Mary Margaret’s doorstep.

“I have a proposition for you, Mr. Jones,” he started, a small and polite smile coming to his lips. “I - I need your help. I’m looking for someone.” There was shyness and self-deprecation in his tone, but Killian didn’t buy it. You didn’t end up owning most of the town with niceties.

“Really?” he asked nonchalantly, crossing his arms over his chest in a protective stance, his eyes darting to Mary Margaret. She looked from him to Gold for a quick minute before she spoke again.

“You know what?” Mary Margaret said, sensing the mood shifting in the room. “I’m going to - jump in the bath, or something.” She was out of the open space and hidden in the bathroom in no time, and Killian had to admire how quickly she’d been to get the bloody hell out of the situation.

“I have a photo,” Gold said as he pulled a folded picture from the inner pocket of his suit jacket. It was only then that Killian noticed the cane he had - he seemed to briefly recollect seeing it the night he met him. He opened the door wider and allowed the man to enter the loft, and his hand closing on the photograph Gold gave him. His eyebrows shot in surprise as he recognized the young girl he met yesterday in the laundry room.

“Her name is Ashley Boyd. And she’s taken something quite valuable of mine,” Gold finished.

“Why don’t you go to the police?” Killian asked, his hand tracing the photograph as he closed the door and turned to face Gold.

“Because, uh… She’s a confused young woman. She’s pregnant. Alone and scared. I don’t want to ruin this young girl’s life. But I just want my property returned.” There was something off about the man. Killian couldn’t tell for certain he was lying, but something wasn’t right.

“What is it?” he asked curiously. Whatever it was, it had made Ashley desperate enough to break into the shop whilst nine months pregnant, and clearly Gold cared enough to have her tracked down for it.

Gold looked behind him, as if he were making sure that Mary Margaret hadn’t materialized all of the sudden. “Well, one of the advantages of you not being the police is discretion. Let’s just say it’s a precious object and leave it at that.”

_Oh, and the plot thickens._

“When did you see her last?” He could do this, he could get technical and professional in his questions and not get attached. It was just a potential case, after all.

“Last night. That’s how I got this.” He lifted his hair to show Killian a bruise and small cut on his forehead. “It’s so unlike her. She was quite wound up. Rambling on and on about fighting for what she wanted. I have no idea what got into her.”

_Bloody hell. Amazing job, mate._

Gold looked at him expectantly, “Mr. Jones, please help me find her. My only other choice is the police, and I don’t think anyone wants to see that baby born in jail now, do they?”

_Buggering hell. There goes keeping unattached,_ Killian thought, his mind playing scenarios for him he didn’t really want to revisit.

“No, of course not. No one should go through that if it can be avoided,” Killian said, clearing his throat.

“You’ll help me then?” Gold asked eagerly. Killian still didn’t like the man. He knew it was an act, but yet he couldn’t pinpoint what the angle was.

“I’ll help _her_ ,” he clarified, his hand still holding the photograph.

He didn’t have time to read Gold’s quirked smile before he got distracted by the door opening suddenly behind them.

“Hey, Killian. I was thinking we-”

The face on Henry when he spotted Gold was priceless. Killian would feel bad for the lad if he didn’t think this was a good lesson for him to learn. Never show up unannounced, _especially_ when you’re sneaking in and everyone knows who your mother is. Henry still had a lot to learn, it seemed. Killian just wasn’t sure those were things he should be teaching him.

“Hey Henry, how are you?” Gold asked cheerily and Killian liked the man even less.

“Okay?”

“Good,” Gold said, as he started towards the door. “Give my regards to your mother. And, good luck, Mr. Jones.”

Killian nodded and watched the man leave, before moving on to finding a change of clothes from one of the boxes.

“Do you know who that is?” Henry asked

“Yeah, I do now,” Killian said, digging out a blue Henley and a pair of combat boots.

“Who? Cause I’m still trying to figure it out.” 

_Oh_.

“I meant in real Storybrooke,” Killian said shrugging. 

Henry noticed the boxes, his head tilting to the side. “Is that all you brought?” There was something in his voice that made Killian feel undeserving, as if he were coming up short somehow. It was a very familiar feeling that he didn’t like to revisit. Not from Henry.

“What are you doing here, lad?” he asked in a clipped tone.

“My mom’s gone til five. I thought we could hang out.”

He wanted to, he really did. But right now, there was a very confused pregnant woman for which Killian felt responsible. Not to mention, there would probably be a paycheck in it for him if he found her. And he could use the money as he wasn’t planning on living off Mary Margaret’s hospitality for free much longer. He wanted to at least contribute with his share of the rent and groceries. “I wish I could. But there’s something I have to do.”

  
/-/

Henry had persistently followed him outside the house and into the Bug, pleading to be part of Killian’s search. He’d refused at first, claiming it would be dangerous, but that only seemed to increase the boy’s enthusiasm. Killian felt cornered, a frustrated sigh coming to his lips when Henry pulled the one card that he knew would have him caving; a small voice claiming that he just wanted to spent time with him. He shook his head all the while he and Henry climbed into the car, wondering how he’d been bested by a ten year old.  Then he turned on the ignition, and they got to work.

He decided to start with Ruby, as he’d heard she and Ashley were close. Ruby wasn’t much help - he could tell she was purposely keeping herself busy and avoiding his questioning - and only had only filled him in a little on the situation before she got sidetracked by the local mechanic delivering her car back. There had evidently been some damage to the crystal wolf she had hanging on from her rearview mirror. She seemed quite attached to the token - and the mechanic - and Killian had to clear his throat once or twice to get her attention back.

“Do you think her boyfriend might be involved in all this?” he asked blatantly.

Ruby rose an eyebrow in a dismissive manner. “Uh, let me think:  that would mean he’s involved with her at all, which he isn’t. He left her in the lurch, right after they found out they were expecting. Hasn’t spoken to her since.” She stood tall and proud, a menacing expression in her features, as if she were judging him as much as she was judging Ashley's boyfriend. “I’m pretty sure that’s what you did.”

The barb hit him hard in the chest, the painful memories surfacing once again. He didn’t appreciate her tone - or her judgement - especially not in front of Henry, who still didn’t know the circumstances that led to his adoption. Henry hadn’t asked and Killian hadn’t told him, and he wasn’t planning to, not anytime soon.  Some things were better left buried. Nevertheless, it wasn’t Ruby’s place to make any assumptions about him on the mere basis that she was pissed off at how her friend had been treated.

“Actually no,” he said in a clipped tone, a defiant look coming to his eyes. “Not at all.”

Ruby seemed to realize how her words had affected him and she gave him a sheepish smile. Killian took the chance to pressure for more information. “What about her family?”

“She has a stepmother and two stepsisters that don’t speak to her. There’s nothing there…” she trailed off.

“Stepmother? Stepsisters? Wait!” Henry said and Killian could spot a mile away what he was going to say next. No, the lass was _not_ Cinderella. No bloody way.

“ _Not now,_ Henry,” he commanded before he gave Ruby another pointed look.

Ruby shuffled her feet a little, genuine care and concern in her features. “I don’t know what you’ve heard, but it’s wrong. Everyone thinks she’s not ready to have this kid, but she’s _trying_. Taking night classes, trying to better herself… Trying to get her life together. Can you understand that?”

“Aye, I can,” Killian sighed.

“Then maybe you should leave her alone. She’s been through so much already.”

“I just want to help her, Ruby,” Killian pleaded and Ruby’s face softened.

“Then try her ex. He lives with his dad.” 

_Of course he does._

/-/

By the looks of the house, Sean and his family lived a comfortable life, and one more piece of the puzzle fit in Killian’s mind. He knocked on the door and waited politely. A young man answered, he couldn’t have been more than nineteen - much like Killian when Henry was conceived.

“Sean Herman?”

Sean nodded. “Who are you?”

“I’m Killian Jones,” he introduced himself. “I’m looking for Ashley? She seems to be in quite a predicament and I thought she might have come looking for you-”

“My son doesn’t have anything to do with that girl anymore,” a commanding voice spoke from the entryway to the garage and Killian turned to see a man that must have been Sean’s father coming their way. Well, that certainly explained a lot.

“You forced him to break up with her,” Killian didn’t even bother to pose it as a question, it was quite clear from where he was standing how the situation had unfolded.

“I’m not going to let my son throw away his entire life over a mistake.” The man stood next to his son, drunk on his privilege and self-righteousness. It made Killian sick to his stomach to even think what Ashley might have gone through.

“And the right choice was to leave her to fend for herself?”

“What are they going to do? Raise the child in the backseat of a car?” he asked sardonically.

_I’d have gladly raised mine in the back seat of the Bug if I’d had the chance._

“Some people only have that,” he said feebly.

“And that’s a pity on them, but I’m not letting that happen to my son. I’m protecting him. It’s sad that others don’t have that, but it’s the way of the world.”

Killian wanted to punch him. It would be so easy to clench his fist and just connect with the man’s jaw, letting actions explain the frustration and rage he was feeling right now. But as mad as he was at that moment, he knew most of it had nothing to do with Sean’s father. It was the memories that this was bringing to the surface, leaving him raw.

“Dad, maybe we should help him look for Ashley. If she’s in danger-” Sean started, and a small flicker of hope lit in Killian, maybe not all was lost.

But it was soon put to an end by Sean’s father. “It’s a waste, Sean.” _She’s a waste._

“Sean, if you want to come, come.  Ashley runs away with this baby, she’s going to be in some serious trouble. You should fight for what you want, lad,” He pleaded, giving Sean one chance to do the right thing, his heart beating frantically in his heart. “Lad, trust me, you want to be part of this. I know I would do everything to have been able to be there for the mother of my child.”

It didn’t work. Sean’s father ordered him inside and Sean obeyed defeatedly. Once Sean was out of earshot, his father faced Killian again, showing a little concern in his demeanor. “Believe me, if I knew where she was, I would tell you. I went to a lot of trouble to get her that deal.”

“Deal? What deal?” he asked confused. No one had mentioned any deals to him.

“You don’t know? Ashley agreed to give up the child. And she’s being paid very well to do so,” he explained, giving Killian a puzzled look.

Killian’s heart dropped to pit of his stomach, leaving him almost nauseous. “She sold the baby?”

“You make it sound so crass. I found someone who’s going to find that child a good and proper home. Something it wouldn’t have otherwise.” He sounded so sure of the choices he was making that it made Killian want to punch him again.

“Who are you to judge whether she could provide that or not?”

“Look at her. She’s a teenager. She’s never shown any evidence of being responsible. How could she possibly know how to be a mother?”

“You don’t get to decide for her. Maybe all she needs is a chance to prove herself,” Killian said, holding his ground.

“That’s what everybody says and it never works out that way. It’s the way life is, Mr. Jones. You should know that better than anyone, wouldn’t you?” Sean’s father gave him a pointed look. “I found someone who’s going to pay Ashley extremely well. Someone who’s going to see to it that everybody’s happy.”

And the final piece of the puzzle finally clicked on Killian’s head. “Gold,” he all but spat the name.

“Well, isn’t that why you were hired? To bring him the baby?”

_Bloody buggering hell._

/-/

The thoughts were tripping in his head as he drove hastily back to the diner, the picture forming in his mind as to what was happening. He wondered if this is how Emma had felt then, if she’d had people telling her she couldn’t do it, that she was too young, too broken to take care of a child. He wondered if him being there next to her would have made a difference. The words from her letter still haunted him.

_We can’t do this, Killian. I can’t do this. He deserves better than the life we can give him. He deserves better than being raised by two screw-ups who can’t get it right. Let’s give him the chance you and I never truly had._

He’d ceded to her wishes there, holding onto the hope that she’d been right, that their son would have a better life. But as he looked at Henry, pleading for him not to double cross Gold, a ten-year old that lived in a fantasy world and ran away from his mother any chance he got, he was starting to doubt himself.

_Oh, lass, perhaps we made the biggest mistake of our lives._

He barged into the diner and confronted Ruby directly, not really in the mood to sugar-coat this any longer: he was tired, this case had gotten him way over his head and he really needed a drink - or five - right now.

“Why didn’t you tell me she sold the baby?” he asked bluntly.

“Because I didn’t think it was important,” Ruby shrugged and moved to clear one of the tables in an attempt to dismiss him. But Killian followed her and held his ground.

“Really? Because it seems that’s the reason why she’s running away.”

“Look, she’s my friend. I don’t like people judging her.”

There was truth in her words, but not all of it. Killian could tell she was hiding something from him. He scanned the room, stopping short when he spotted the little crystal wolf charm resting on one of the counters. He turned to check the street and noticed that Ruby’s car had disappeared.

“Ruby,” he said, clenching his jaw to try to reign in his temper. “Where’s your car?” Ruby’s expression was all the answer he needed. “You didn’t send me to Sean to help me find her, did you? You just wanted to give her a head start,” he concluded.

“I’m trying to help her,” Ruby insisted stubbornly, and Killian felt himself at the end of his patience.

“So do I. She’s in more trouble than you think, lass and I don’t want her to deal with Gold on her own,” he pleaded.

Ruby hesitated, but her eyes quickly darted to Henry. “I won’t talk in front of him. He’s the Mayor’s son.”

“Hey! I’m on your side!” Henry protested but Killian knew he’d never get anything out of Ruby if Henry was still there. He gave a sign to Ruby to give him a moment alone with Henry and he crouched to meet the lad’s eyes.

“Lad, I need to find Ashley. And for that to happen, you need to go home. Ruby is not going to trust me with any valuable information if you’re around. Go home, please.”

Henry looked at him for a brief second and then nodded. “Okay,” he said and turned around. That had been too easy and part of Killian protested that it didn’t seem realistic for Henry to accept his command so easily - he never had before - but at the moment he had more pressing matters to attend to, and he wasn’t going to kick a gift horse in the mouth. He waited expectantly for Ruby to come back. She placed a used dish on the counter and turned to back to face him.

“She left town. Said she was going to try Boston. Thought she could disappear there.”

Boston. He could track her down in Boston. It was his city after all.

“How long ago?”

“About half an hour.”

/-/

He should have listened to his bloody instincts around Henry instead of accepting the lad’s willingness to leave. Which had only ever been a ruse, as Henry climbed out from the trunk of the Bug and demanded to know what Ruby had said. Killian wanted to kick himself over and over. The lad was his and Emma’s son, for bloody sake, of course he wouldn’t listen to any order he was given and would just do whatever in the blazes he felt like doing.

He suddenly had a new respect for his late parents and every single foster family - albeit not many - that had tried to order him around and failed.

“Henry!” he admonished. “I’m going to Boston. You can’t come with me.”

“You can’t go to Boston! She can’t leave,” Henry said agitated. “Bad things happen to anyone who does. It’s the curse.”

_Bloody curse._ “Lad, I don’t have time to argue with you over the curse. I have to drive you home and then I need to find Ashley before she gets in more trouble than she already is!”

“We need to reach her before she gets hurt!” Henry sounded so convinced. “If you turn back to take me home, we might not make it in time. And Gold might call the police and he’ll send her to jail.”

The thought of Ashley giving birth in jail was too much for Killian’s fragile state of mind. He’d have to deal with Regina’s rage later if she ever found out about Henry going with him.  “Buckle up, lad.”

It didn’t take them long to find the car, and Killian had to fight the sense of dread when he saw it that it was crashed in a ditch by the town sign.

“Ashley!” Killian called for her as he exited the Bug and ran towards the other car. But the lass wasn’t there. “What have you done, lass?” he asked. It was then he heard the scream nearby, and he ran in the direction of the sound. He found her lying in a patch of weeds by the side of the road, taking deep, shuddering breaths.

“My baby!” she said, voice laced with pain. “It’s coming!”

_Brilliant_.

He managed to carefully help Ashley get back into the passenger seat of her car, ushered Henry on the backseat, before they set off for the hospital.

“Breathe, lass, we’ll be in the hospital in no time,” he tried to offer soothing words, but it only seemed to agitate Ashley even more.

“No! Please! Take me to Boston, I can’t go back there.”

“I don’t think we have the time to make it to Boston, Ashley,” he said. He didn’t have much experience in the matter, but it did seem like the baby was coming now.

“He’s going to take my baby,” Ashley sobbed in between contractions and Killian’s heart went out to her.

“I won’t let them take that baby away from you if you want it,” he said fervently, his eyes fixated on the road, trying to make up now for the mistakes of his past. “If you keep it, are you ready? If -” his voice broke and he wished Henry weren’t there to see him admit to his own shortcomings. “I know I wasn’t, and neither was Henry’s mother. If you want to give the child its best chance, you have to be ready. The baby will need someone that is ready, someone who accepts that their whole life is going to change, and that they can’t never - ever - leave. No more running. Time to grow up.” He looked back at Ashley in the rearview, waiting for his words to sink in and giving her time to ponder them.

“I’m ready,” she said finally, her tone determined. “I want my baby.”

_Aye, and I’ll make sure you’ll have it._

/-/

Killian paced back and forth in the hospital waiting room, running his hand through his hair.  He’d offered wondered who - if anyone - had driven Emma to the hospital. If someone had held her hand as she went through labor. Told her she was bloody brilliant and she could do anything.

_If someone had been for her in all the ways he couldn’t._

“You know,” Henry’s voice took him out of his own head - he’d been doing that a lot lately - and made him stop. “You’re different.”

“I am?” he asked with confusion.

“You’re the only one who could do it,” he offered whimsically.

“Break the curse? You keep telling me that. I’m aware, lad,” Killian sighed.

Henry shook his head. “No, _leave_. You’re the only one that can leave Storybrooke.” He seemed so small and insecure when he pronounced the words.

Killian crouched to his eye-level and gave him a small smile. “You came to Boston looking for me, lad.”

“But I came back. I had to. I’m ten,” he pointed out. “But if anyone else tries to leave, bad things happen to them.”

There was something else hidden in there and Killian was starting to read between the lines. “Anyone but me?”

“You’re the savior, Killian. You can do anything you want,” his voice was broken with despair. “You can leave Storybrooke,” he finished shyly but Killian could hear the words he didn’t say.

_You can leave me._

He was about to speak, trying to figure out how to address the fear he saw in Henry’s eyes -a fear that was so familiar to him, the one that had been with him for his entire life- when one of the doctors approached him. He quickly stood up.

“Mr. Jones, the baby is a healthy six-pound girl and the mother is doing fine,” the doctor confirmed.

The small relief he’d felt soon vanished when he saw Mr. Gold round the corner, the tap of his cane marking his approach.

“What lovely news. Excellent work, Mr. Jones,” he said in a voice that was dark and made a shiver ran down Killian’s spine. “Thank you for bringing me my merchandise.”

He couldn’t believe a baby was being referred in such terms. He should have known better, as most of his life he’d been treated as a nuisance, an object, nothing but a number, a case to address. It hurt then - it still hurt now - and he refused to treat another child like that. “A baby.  Your merchandise… You should have told me.”

“You didn’t need to know at the time,” Gold replied smugly.

“Perhaps you feared I wouldn’t have taken the case?” He would have anyway, if not for Gold, just to try to help the poor girl.

“On the contrary,” the other man pointed out, circling the waiting room with his steps, the cane making a metallic sound against the floor, “I thought it would be more effective if you found out yourself. After seeing Ashley’s hard life, I thought it would make sense. Do you? I mean, if anyone could understand the reasons behind consenting to give up a baby, I assumed it would be you.”

He really didn’t want to have this conversation near Henry. He knew how fragile Henry’s state already was, their most recent conversation just now revealing a whole new layer of fears the lad held, and Killian wanted to spare the child this ordeal. This wasn’t a conversation he wanted to have with Henry. He wasn’t _ready_ to have it. But what was done was done and he needed to focus on what he could try to fix.

“You’re not getting your hands on that infant,” he insisted.

“We have an agreement and my agreements are always honored. If not, I’ll involve the police and that baby ends up in the system. Which would be a pity, don’t you think? You didn’t enjoy your time in the system, did you, Mr. Jones?” There was something really dark in that man, something that made Killian want to recoil, but he knew he couldn’t. If he didn’t protect Ashley and her baby now, no one would. She’d lose her baby girl. She’d lose _hope_. He had lost hope years ago but he’ll be damned if he let someone else lose it when he could have prevented it.

“It’s not going to happen,” he stated.

“I like your confidence. _Charming_ ,” Gold said, his eyebrow raising on the last word. “But I’ll press charges for her breaking into my shop,” he threatened with a polite smile.

Killian didn’t balk. “Probably to steal the contract, right?”

Gold shrugged, “Who knows?”

Killian tilted his head. He hated men like Gold. He really did. They were the embodiment of everything he despised growing up, of every bully that had taken advantage of someone that was in a lesser position. Of everyone that exerted their powerful position to reap another benefit they didn’t need instead of reaching out a hand to help.

“No jury in the world will put a woman in jail whose only reason for breaking and entering was to keep her child.” He spoke loud and clear, with a confidence he didn’t quite have but he needed to muster anyway. “I’m willing to roll the dice that contract doesn’t hold up. Are you?” He let the words sink in for a moment before he delivered the final blow. “Not to mention what might come out about you in the process. Somehow, I suspect, there is more to you than a simple pawnbroker. You really want to start that fight?”

He braced himself for Gold’s angry retort, but the man only gave him a condescending smile. “You’re good at this, Mr. Jones. I like it. You’re not afraid of me.”

Killian shrugged, “Why would I be?”

“That’s either cocky or presumptuous. Either way, I’d rather have you on my side,” Gold finished with a shrug of his own.

“So she can keep the baby?” Killian was quite sure it wouldn’t be that easy and Gold’s face confirmed that for him.

“Not just yet. There’s still the matter of my agreement with Miss Boyd.”

“Break the contract.”

“That’s not what I do.” Aye, there was _definitely_ something sinister in Gold. “You see, contracts – deals – well, they’re the very foundation of all civilized existence.” Gold slowly approach Killian. “So, I put it to you now. If you want Ashley to have that baby, are you willing to make a deal with me?”

Killian clenched his jaw. “What do you want?”

“Oh, I don’t know just yet.” The man certainly had a taste for dramatics.  “You’ll owe me a favor.”

Every fiber of his being rebelled against the words. He _knew_ it was a bad idea. But he had no choice. Ashley had no other choice.

“Deal,” he said, reaching over to shake Gold’s hand.

/-/

Killian and Henry made their way into Ashley’s hospital room. She was rocking a tiny little bundle in her arms and she looked tired but happy. Killian’s heart broke again, going back to the moment he’d missed in his own life. His hand went absentmindedly to ruffle Henry’s hair, his throat suddenly dry.

“What’s her name?” he asked in a strained voice, trying to muster a smile.

“Alexandra.”

“A name fit for a princess,” Killian said, the smile coming easier to his lips as he witnessed Ashley’s smile down at her child.

“Thank you for getting me here,” she said sincerely, her eyes meeting his.

Killian shrugged dismissively, “It was nothing, lass.” He took a deep breath, tilting his head. “Gold was outside.” He noticed her eyes widening in fear and he hurried his next words. “I took care of it. She’s yours to keep - and raise.”

“She is?” she asked in disbelief and Killian nodded. “What did you do?”

“Made a deal meself. Doesn’t really matter, love. You have the chance you wanted.”

_You have the chance Emma and I never got._

“Thank you,” Ashley said, emotion in her voice and the tears coming to her eyes and Killian simple swallowed. He wanted to stay, grab that little baby in his arms and pretend for a moment that the time had gone back a decade and he was welcoming his own child to the world.

But history couldn’t be changed. There was no magical pen to rewrite a different tale. He’d missed his chance. This wasn’t his chance, this wasn’t his family. This was someone else’s chance and he could only hope he’d take it.

He tugged Henry’s jacket sleeve, bringing his attention to him. “Come on, lad, we have to get you home.”

The fact that he and Henry ran into Sean coming in while leaving the hospital made Killian think that perhaps this story would have a happy ending.

/-/

It was still a few minutes before the clock struck five o'clock when Killian pulled up outside Regina’s front gate. The lad had been quiet during the drive and Killian could sense that the events of the day had gotten to him. He took a deep breath as he reached into the inner pocket of his jacket and pulled out the photograph he kept there. The edges were a little faded, but it was still in good shape. He’d taken good care of it for a decade, and it was one of his most prized possessions.

“Here,” he said, handing it over to Henry. “I don’t have much from your mo- from Emma, but I have this.”

Henry took the picture, his eyes drinking in the image. “Is that her? And you?”

“Aye,” he said as he took one last look at the snapshot of him and Emma from his eighteenth birthday. Her blacked rimmed glasses hanging a little low on the bridge of her nose, her eyes looking at him with nothing but love and hope. Gods, he’d loved her so much _._

_He still loved her so much._

“ _Hook_ ,” Killian said suddenly and Henry tore his eyes away from the picture to give him a quizzical look. “My code name can be Hook. That- that’s what your mother used to call me.” He smiled as the memories came to him, hitting him like a wave.

_She’d been his everything._

_He knew it had been a terrible idea to come to this side of the town. The docks has always been shady and at this hour even more. He’d wanted to come alone, but Emma had insisted on coming with him, determined to listen what August had to say._

_But August had never showed up and on their way back to the Bug, a couple of men had come for them. One had grabbed Emma and the other had tried to restrain him. Killian couldn’t remember much more than that, other than the blind rage that had welled up in him at the mere idea of Emma getting hurt. His hands searched frantically for anything he could leverage against the attackers and that was when he’d felt his fingers grasp cold metal. He’d grabbed the tool and simply swung it back and forth, slicing the man’s arm. In the meantime, Emma had already broken free and was leveraging a wood plank for her defense - she was a tough lass, after all._

_The men had decided to retreat and soon Killian was pulling Emma in his arms, frantically asking if she was okay. She’d nodded, sinking into his arms a little further._

_It could have been hours, but it was probably a few minutes by the time they pulled apart. Her hand held his wrist and she examined the hook he was still holding in his hand._

_“A hook? Really?,” she’d asked in disbelief. “What are you, a pirate?”_

_“It was the first thing I could grab,” he’d said sheepishly._

_“It suits you,” she tilted her head and cocked an eyebrow at him. “I’d think that is what I’m calling you from now on: Hook.”_

“Why did she call you that?” Henry asked eagerly.

Killian swallowed loudly, trying to find a way out of that question. He didn’t want to lie to Henry, but the truth was a little too dark for his taste. In the end, he settled for a sanitized version of the truth that wouldn’t betray the spirit of what he and Emma were.

“Some nonsensical things about us being like pirates, living by our code or something,” he said.

Henry nodded, his eyes studying the picture again before he motioned to give it back to Killian.

“Keep it,” he said. “I want you to have it.”

“Thanks,” Henry said, his hands holding the picture as if it were a treasure. “I’ll see you tomorrow?” he asked hopefully as he exited the car.

“Aye,” Killian confirmed. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” _son._ He finished the sentence in his head as he witnessed Henry make his way into the house. He put the car in gear and left, driving the few blocks until he arrived outside the loft’s building. He grabbed his phone and took out the card he’d been given. His fingers fidgeted a second before he dialed the number.

“ _Hello_?”

“Sheriff Humbert, I was wondering, is the job offer still open?”

_“You can call me Graham and yes, it is.”_

“Is Regina going to be okay with this?

_“My department, my choice. I’ll see you Monday morning.”_

“Please don’t tell me I’m on doughnut duty…” he joked and Graham chuckled. “See you on Monday, Sheriff.”

He disconnected the called and exhaled deeply.

_Killian Jones, Deputy_. That would be a thing to see. Emma could probably had a field day with that - if she ever knew about it.

He sighed, dragging himself towards the loft, the prospect of a night in a comfortable bed and the hope to keep the memories at bay.

But he knew the second part was only wishful thinking.


	6. VI

“I’m not wearing a bloody uniform, mate,” Killian said in a childish tone, looking at the hideous brown uniform as if it had offended him personally.

“It’s mandatory,” Graham tried to convince him.

“ _You_ don’t wear one. If you can exert authority wearing a leather jacket, so can I,” Killian cocked an eyebrow at him. “Besides, brown doesn’t suit my complexion.”

Graham chuckled. “Oh well, if it’s ruining your good looks...” He held out a badge in his hand. “At least wear the badge? Make it official?”

“That I can definitely do,” Killian said and Graham tossed him the badge. He caught it and moved to clip it on his belt.

The moment he finished the clipping the room around them began to shake, with objects falling off shelves and glass shattering all around. Killian grabbed a hold of the desk, riding out the tremor. Then it was over almost immediately, a moment of calm before Killian registered the noise of car alarms going off outside and every phone in the place started to ring. Graham lift his head to smile at him. “Welcome to Storybrooke Sheriff’s Station, Deputy Jones.”

/-/

Killian and Graham made their way outside the town, towards what seemed an old digging area and a mine collapse. Regina was already there, addressing the people that had gathered.

“Everyone, step back!” She noticed Graham and went to stand next to him. “Sheriff, set up a police perimeter. Marco, can you assist the fire department?” she ordered around before she made a point of acknowledging Killian’s presence. “Mr. Jones, this is official town business. You’re free to go…”

“Actually, Madam Mayor,” Killian said nonchalantly, “I work for the town now.”

“He’s my deputy,” Graham explained and Killian couldn’t resist moving his leather jacket aside to accentuate the shiny new badge clipped to his belt.

Regina’s face contorted horribly for a second before she gathered herself, her tone cold and collected as she addressed Graham. “They say the Mayor is always last to know…”

Graham remained silent for a second, calmly resisting Regina’s stare before he spoke. “It’s in my budget,” he said simply, his tone leaving no room for argument.

“Very well, then,” Regina said, straightening her coat. “ _Deputy_ _Jones_.” She almost spat the words, the vile palpable in them. “Why don’t you make yourself useful and help with crowd control?”

He should have just nodded and gotten right to work, but there was still a part of Killian that didn’t want to make it too easy on her. Instead he waited, looking pointedly at Graham. It was only when the other man nodded that Killian started to move. “Coming right away, Madam Mayor,” he said as he made his way towards the patrol car to retrieve the yellow police tape.

He could still hear Regina’s voice as she made a speech for the gathered crowd.

“People of Storybrooke, don’t be alarmed. We’ve always known this area was honeycombed with old mining tunnels. But fear not. I’m going to undertake a project to make this area safe – to rehabilitate it for town use. We will bulldoze it, collapse it, pave it.”

“Pave it?” Henry's voice sounded frazzled as she approached his mother. “What if there’s something down there?”

“Henry? What are you doing here?” Regina asked for what must have been the tenth time in less than a week, frustration creeping into her voice. Killian couldn’t quite blame her. 

“What’s down there?” Henry insisted.

_Oh, lad, don’t do that to your mother._

“Nothing, now step back!” Regina said in a clipped tone. “In fact, everyone! Please, please step back. Thank you.” Most of the crowd started to disperse, muttering among themselves.  Killian moved to wave them away, but not before he saw Regina take a surreptitious glance around before carefully bending and picking something from the ground, slipping it into her coat pocket.

“What was that?” Oh Lord, Henry was relentless sometimes.

“Henry, enough. Listen. This is a safety issue. Wait in the car!” Regina said, giving Killian and Graham another sharp direction to cordon off the area before moving to talk to Marco.

Killian busied himself setting up the perimeter when he heard Henry’s insistent whispers calling his name.  He finished what he was doing, and went to meet Henry by the patrol car, surprised to see Archie in tow. The lad was hunched low, clearly trying to avoid his mother’s line of sight.

“This requires all of Operation Cobra. Both of you.”

“I didn’t realize I was in Operation Cobra,” Archie said, baffled.

“Of course you are,” Henry said solemnly. “You know everything.” His eyes darted back and forth between Archie and Killian as he continued speaking. “We can’t let her do this. What if there’s something down there?”

“They’re just some old tunnels, lad,” Killian replied, trying to divert Henry from his line of thinking.

“That just happen to collapse right after you get here?” Henry however, was in no mood to be dissuaded. Killian looked to Archie for help, but the other man seemed as helpless as he felt. “You’re changing things. You’re weakening the curse.”

“Henry, that is not what’s happening and you should _not_ be doing this,” Killian cocked an eyebrow at him, the tone of his voice taking him by surprise. Since when had he decided to emulate his father? He sounded _exactly_ how Brennan used to when he lectured him and Liam. Those thoughts were quickly discarded from his mind - he didn’t want to revisit the memories anyway - when Henry kept talking, his voice raising a pitch in frustration.

“Yes, it is! Did you do anything different today? ‘Cause something made this happen.”

Killian’s hand reached for the badge that was now clipped to his belt, his fingers gracing the cold metal. It couldn’t be - it made no sense. He was falling into Henry’s delusions and he shouldn’t-

Regina’s sudden appearance broke Killian out of his internal monologue, and it effectively ended the subversive little meeting Henry was ring-leading.

“Henry, I told you, _wait in the car_!” She tugged him by the sleeve, back in the direction of her black Mercedes. “Deputy, do you job,” she shouted back over her shoulder. He did so, but not before witnessing Regina asking Archie to stay.

/-/

Killian sat with Mary Margaret at their kitchen island early the next afternoon, commiserating over her situation with David and watching the woman make s’mores. It should have made Killian uncomfortable - this little scene had _girl talk_ written all over it - but somehow he felt at ease as he engulfed the fantastic homemade treat and listen to Mary Margaret’s sigh.

“I’m the worst person in the world.”

“Please, lass, you’re not even the worst person in this town,” Killian pointed out and she gave him a small smile. “Or this room.”

She rolled her eyes in an affectionate way. “If Kathryn was horrible it’d be easier, but she’s so…nice.”

He didn’t like that tone, or what she was saying. He knew where that led and he didn’t want that for Mary Margaret. She deserved so much better than being reduced to the dirty little secret on the side.

“What, _exactly_ , would be easier?” He tried to maintain a calm tone, his voice low as he enunciated the words, letting the meaning brew between them.

“Nothing,” she shook her head, realizing where her thoughts had led her.

“ _Nothing’s_ a good idea,” Killian confirmed. “You deserved better than this, Mary Margaret.  You’re smart – you know not to get involved with someone who is already married. It’s not worth the heartache – trust me.”

She cocked an eyebrow at him and Killian felt his cheeks burn with shame. He wasn’t proud of his past, there were several things he’d wished he’d done differently when he was blinded by grief and heartache. And he certainly didn’t want to revisit them now. “A tale for another day, perhaps?” he offered and she smiled. There was an insistent knock on the door and Killian stood up. “I’ll get it.”

When he opened the door, the sight in front of him broke his heart and made his pulse quicken. Henry was standing there, tears in his eyes, panting as he continued sobbing.

“Lad, what happened?” he asked alarmed and Henry didn’t even hesitate, launching himself into Killian’s arms, hugging him tightly. Killian’s arms closed on the boy’s little frame, each one of his sobs breaking his heart. “Tell me, Henry.” 

/-/

It had taken Killian a considerable amount of time to calm Henry after the lad told him what Archie had said to him. Then he’d dropped the lad off at Regina’s office, and taken a considerable amount of time to calm himself.

His first instinct was to barge into the man’s office and pummel him to the ground. Unfortunately, he’d just taken the job as deputy, and he already had one complaint filed against him for threatening Archie - albeit it being a bunch of lies. He simply couldn’t take the risk. Henry was all that mattered and ensuring the lad’s safety - both physically and mentally- was his main priority.

That didn’t stop him for showing up anyway, knocking insistently with his fist, and barging right in when there came no immediate answer.

Archie was sitting on the couch, his loyal Dalmatian by his side, sipping a drink. “Archie, what did you do? _You told me_ not to take the fantasy away. _You told me_ it would devastate him. And now you do _this_?” His hand clenched into a fist at his side, and Killian took a deep calming breath.

“Of course, but if therapy stops working, you adjust it,” Archie said, his words sounding like a justification he was still trying to sell to himself.

“Was it something that Regina said?” Killian trod carefully with his words, but he couldn’t help replaying the scene the day before, in which it seemed that Regina was verbally beating up Archie.

Archie stood up, crossing his arms over his chest defensively. “I do not need to defend my professional decisions to you,” he said, his voice shaking a little.

Killian’s inner lie detector picked up on the hesitance of his voice and he knew he’d struck a chord. Regina had played a part in this, he just wasn’t sure to what extent. His phone rang and he checked the number before answering. “Madam Mayor, to what do I owe the pleasure of your calling?”

_“Is he with you?”_

“I’m with Dr. Hopper at the moment and I’m afraid your tactics have only-” he started but he was cut off by Regina’s insistence.

“ _Not him. Henry_.” Killian’s heart sank on his chest. _“Is he with you?”_

“I dropped Henry at your office an hour ago,” he supplied, feeling the goosebumps rising on his arms.

_“Well, he’s not here.”_

“I don’t know where Henry is,” Killian said and Archie cleared his throat, fear and apprehension in his eyes.

 “I think I do.” His grim certainty did nothing to appease Killian’s fears, it only fueled them more.

_Henry, what have you done?_

/-/

Archie and Killian drove towards the entrance of the old mine and scouted the place, calling Henry’s name. Killian hadn’t even been sure Henry was there in the first place, but the sight of one of his candy bars quickly convinced them both that he was there, somewhere.

Killian was a little further from the entrance when another earthquake hit, but Archie was already inside, calling for Henry. Killian rushed towards the place, but he didn’t make it in time before the rocks collapsed and the entry was closed.

He stood there, cursing everything in life as he called for Archie and Henry, before reaching for his phone and dialing Graham’s number.

It didn’t take long until volunteers and the fire department were there, Marco and Graham - and Killian - overseeing the removal of the rocks that were blocking the entrance.

“Archie’s smart. He will keep the boy safe until we get to them,” Marco promised but it only seemed to be empty words as another tremor began, evidence of another collapse.

“Stop!” Regina screamed, fear sipping through her voice. “Stop! You’re making it worse!”

“We’re trying to save him,” Killian said, trying to contain his own emotions. “He went down there because he was upset, he feels he has something to prove.”

“And why does he think he has anything to prove? Who’s encouraging him?” Regina spat, her tone raising as she lashed out on him.

“Do not put this on me,” Killian said in a calming but threatening voice. “I did not do this to him.”

“Oh, please! Lecture me until his oxygen runs out!” Regina said before she walked out on him, voicing her deepest fear - and his - with a trembling voice and tears in her eyes.

Killian took two calming breaths and counted to ten before he went after her. “We have to stop this. Arguing won’t accomplish anything,” he said as his eyes bore into hers, hoping she could see he cared about the lad’s safety as much as she did.

“No, it won’t,” she acknowledged and Killian could tell she was battling with herself.

“What do you want me to do?” he asked.

“Help me,” she pleaded.

He nodded. He would help her find Henry and after that, he was going to ground the lad until he was eighteen. Killian wondered how the Joneses had ever put up with him and Liam back in the day. It was a miracle they hadn’t collapsed from a heart attack.

/-/

The explosives had been a long shot, and the fact that it didn’t work only put everyone in a worse mood. Regina was lashing out, demanding explanations and trying to understand what the next course of action could be. If they only knew where they were, they could drill in the place. But they needed a location for that.

_And that bloody dog needed to stop barking._ Killian thought for one second before an idea came to him. It was a long shot, but they were already grasping at straws anyway. He made his way towards the fire truck and released the dog.

“Go tell us where Archie is, boy,” he encouraged and the dog put his nose in the ground as he sniffed and tracked.  Killian followed, and it wasn’t long until Pongo settled on one spot, pawing at the ground and barking. Graham and Marco rushed to clear the area and lift a wood plank from it. Killian smiled - there was an air shaft. There was hope.

The preparations took place quickly. Marco and Graham helping pull the iron grating that covered the shaft. It looked narrow and steep and - to be honest - quite dangerous.

“So, what now?” Regina asked as she took one step and peeped over into the hole.

“You need to lower someone straight down, or the line will collapse the side of the shaft,” Marco explained.

“I’ve got a harness,” Graham said as he lifted his arm to show it.

“Lower me down,” Regina said as she rubbed her hands over her tailored pants.

“Perhaps I should go,” Killian offered, only to be met by Regina’s furious stare.

“He’s _my_ son.”

He swallowed, his voice throaty as he spoke again. “He’s my son too… You’ve been sitting on a desk for ten years, Madam Mayor. I’ve been chasing skips and getting in tighter spots than this. I can’t do a lot of things-” he trailed off, his eyes meeting hers. “I don’t know what TV show is appropriate for him, or what he should be learning at school. I don't know his clothes’ size, or what he needs when his stomach aches at night, but _this_. _This I can do_.”

She looked at him, studying him before she took a step forward, grasping his arm. “Just bring him home to me,” she pleaded.

“Aye, I promise,” he said as he reached for the harness and prepared himself to be lowered down.

/-/

It was a narrow and deep way down, Killian’s heart beating frantically in his chest, trying very hard to keep the fears at bay as he focused on the simple task of making it to where Henry and Archie were. He didn’t want to dwell on the dread and anxiety that was creeping up on him, taking residence in his mind and painting him somber scenarios. No, he wouldn’t. He would rescue Henry. He was not going to lose the lad again.

_Not after just finding him. Not after losing Emma already._

The moment he saw the old elevator on the shaft and he heard Henry’s voice, he let out the breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“Hang on, lad, I’m coming,” he yelled as he carefully placed his feet on the top of the elevator and pulled on the gate. Archie and Henry stood up, the first one grabbing Henry and lifting him. Killian reached out, the painful ache in his chest easing the moment his arms closed on his son’s frame. “I’ve got you, boy,” he whispered as Henry kept crawling and he had a good hold on him. The moment Henry was secured in his arms, the shaft started shaking, the elevator moving back and forth as if it were to collapse. Killian called for Archie but there was little he could do as he was holding on Henry.

“It’s okay,” Archie called before everything became a deafening sound as the elevator’s line cut and it fell into the precipice.

Killian wished he could have saved him, he could have spared Henry the pain.

He dared to look down and found himself smiling at the sight of Archie holding on, his umbrella hooked on one of his carabiners.

“That’s the perfect use of an umbrella, mate,” he laughed before he radioed the outside to ask them to throw down a second rope and pull them up.

/-/

It had been a slow process to pull them all up, but by the time they reached the surface, Marco was pulling Archie out and Killian handed Henry to Regina. She took him off of his arms and pulled him away from Killian.

It stung, but Killian knew that Regina wasn’t going to have a change of heart over one single moment in which they had bonded over Henry. Nevertheless, he felt the need to see for the safety of his son again and after he was rid of the gear, he made his way to check on Henry.

He was met by Regina’s quick shove and an order to clear up the crowd. Killian sighed, his heart breaking a little but masking those feelings as he gave Henry a soft smile before he moved to do the work.

It was a tedious ordeal to clear the crowd away and out of the corner of his eye, he saw Regina and Archie deep in conversation. Whatever words were being exchanged between Hopper and the Mayor, they were not pretty. Archie walked away and Regina’s eyes set on him. If looks could kill, Killian would be dead by now.

But none of that mattered to him, only one thing mattered at that point in the night, after the hellish day he’d had.

He walked over to where Henry sat, shock blanket draped over him. He was conscious of Regina’s eyes on him, but beyond bloody caring by this point.

“Lad,” he said as he reached Henry’s side, his hand clasping on the boy’s shoulder. “I can’t begin to explain how relieved I am that you’re okay.”

Henry smiled at him, that boyish smirk Killian knew so well. That one - that smirk was on him. And now he would have the satisfaction of wiping it off his face. “That being said...” His expression changed, a stern tone coming to his voice. “You’re _grounded_. Whatever punishment your mother decides on for your grounding, _you will accept_. Every single last condition. You will not do something like this again. _Ever.”_

He kneeled, his eyes leveling with his son’s, desperation in his voice. “Rule number four: Henry, nothing, _nothing_ is more important than your safety. No curse, no proof waiting to be found, no evil scheme. _Nothing_. Do you hear me?”

Henry nodded and Killian pulled him into his arms, briefly embracing. “Now go home to your mother. You’ve scared her enough these past few days.”

He broke the hug and stood up, turning around and meeting Regina’s amused stare. “Madam Mayor,” he saluted as he made his way towards his car, desperate for a long shower and some of Mary Margaret’s hot chocolate, one thought flowing to his mind. 

_Brennan Jones would be proud._


	7. VII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a very hard chapter to write. Let me know what you think!

Killian didn’t know why he was even at a party for a man he hardly knew, let alone a man who wouldn’t have remembered him now even if they _had_ known each other. He’d been given the invitation at the station that day, Kathryn Nolan giving him a hopeful smile. And he’d accepted, not really knowing what else to do.

On one hand, he wanted to stay at the loft and be on hand to distract Mary Margaret from the party she decided to skip and the life resolution she’d taken when she’d resigned from her volunteer work at the hospital. But on the other hand, it was - perhaps - the only chance he’d have to see Henry for a while. Regina had held firm on her decision to ground Henry, and as much as Killian wanted to see the lad, he knew he would have to abide by her rules. Henry had tried sneaking into the station to see him, but Killian had reluctantly turned the boy away, praying that his mother would never learn of it.

But Mary Margaret, sensing that Killian’s desperation for even the smallest of contact with Henry, had sent him on his merry way to the party, claiming that she’d be more than fine on her own. “I’ve been alone for a lot of nights before you came along, Killian. I’ll be okay.” A small part of Killian wanted to hug her and promised her that she wouldn’t be alone from now on, but he knew a thing or two about making promises he wasn’t sure he could keep, well-intentioned or not. He had given her a hug anyway, engulfing her petite frame in his arms before he left for the party.

That was how he’d ended on the foyer of the Nolan’s house, sharing a bench with a 10 year-old that was still hung up on a curse.

“You know why he doesn’t remember, right?” Henry prompted. “The curse isn’t working on him yet.”

“Henry, David has amnesia.” Killian insisted, trying to gently infuse the difference in Henry’s mind.

“Well, then the amnesia is preventing the curse from replacing his fairy tale story with fake memories,” Henry insisted, speaking in a low voice and stealing glances at the kitchen, where Regina was.

“Aye. Because everyone here has fake stories that prevent them from remembering who they really are,” Killian tilted his head and pronounced the last quip almost sarcastically, hoping that Henry would understand. But his son either didn’t take the hint or had just decided to ignore him, just another blind adult who couldn’t see his truth. If Killian were to take a wild guess, he’d say it was the second, because the way his son’s eyes glinted at him with half-annoyance, half-bossing-around was painfully familiar. Emma used to give him the same look every time he tried to talk her out of something she’d set her mind on.. And every time he’d failed miserably, Emma moving forward with whatever she wanted to do anyway.

“ _Right_. And now’s our chance to help him.” Yep, the lad definitely took after Emma. Killian felt himself losing the battle again. “We just have to get him to remember that he’s-” Henry trailed off, looking at Killian’s expectantly.

“He’s Prince Charming,” he sighed, finishing the boy’s thought. _My bloody father._

 “We just have to jog his memory by getting him and Miss Blanchard together.”

_Hell, no._

“Didn’t we _just_ try that?” Killian argued, every single fiber of his being blanching at the idea of causing Mary Margaret more heartache. She was already suffering as it was, only because Henry had wanted to be proven right about his cursed town theory. And while Killian was on board with preserving his son’s fantasies if they helped him deal with complex emotions, it couldn’t be at the expense of people’s - Mary Margaret’s - feelings.

“And it woke him up!” Henry stated proudly.

“Lad, listen-” Killian started but he was interrupted by the man of the hour coming over to stand next to them.

“Hey,” David said, a feeble smile coming to his lips. “You’re the ones who saved me, right?”

Killian stood, facing the man in front of him. They were about the same height, and he found himself studying him. They definitely did not seem alike. “Aye, I guess you could say so,” he offered with a smile of his own.

David fidgeted, his smile morphing into a nervous chuckle. “And, uh, you’re also the only ones I know here,” he acknowledged with a sincere voice.

Killian felt bad for the man, clearly feeling like a stranger in his own house. He knew the feeling, that ache of never quite belonging, as it had been his sole companion for decades. Only twice he’d felt like he’d belong: first with the Joneses and later with Emma. And he’d lost them both. Stealing a look at Henry, he thought perhaps, maybe thrice.  “You can hide with us,” he offered and David beamed.

“Fantastic,” he said as he stabbed a cocktail snack from a tray that a waiter carried nearby with a toothpick.

“So,” Henry started and by the tone of his voice Killian was already fearing what would come next, “have you ever used a sword?”

“I’m sorry?” David asked confused and Kilian gave Henry a stern look.

“Henry,” he admonished, cocking an eyebrow in a clear message for the lad to drop it. “Not now.”

“You live with Mary Margaret, right?” David asked, almost nonchalantly, but Killian could spot a loaded question a mile away.

“Aye, yes, we share a household,” he said softly, not giving much away and waiting to see what David would ask next.

David seemed to falter for a moment, before he casually continued. “I didn’t know that you two - she didn’t mention -”

It was painful to watch, even for him and Killian didn’t have the heart to go on. The man was already second-guessing and hesitating about everything -and everyone - in his life.

“No, no,” he waved his hand in the air. “As lovely as Miss Blanchard is, ours is a relationship of a _friendly nature_.”

David’s eyes lit in a way no married man’s eyes should lit at the mention of any woman other than his wife. “Is she coming tonight?”

“I’m afraid she couldn’t make it,” Killian replied and watched that light snuff away. He felt sorry for the man, he did, but he also realized that now, more than ever, he needed to be there for Mary Margaret. He could see Henry wanted to push David a little further but he turned away and gave his son a stern stare. He wanted to help the lad, he really did, but they had no business aiding a confused married man and getting Mary Margaret hurt in the process.

It seemed their silent conversation took longer than they both thought, because the next thing he knew, Kathryn was walking over to them, asking them if they’d seen David. It was only then that Killian noticed the man had vanished. And considering the way he’d looked when he’d mentioned Mary Margaret, Killian had a pretty good hunch on where he might be headed.

_Bloody hell._

/-/

Killian had no intention of confronting Mary Margaret as he wasn’t eager to bring the topic of David with her - even after spotting the man leaving as he was arriving to the loft. But he couldn’t avoid it when the first thing that greeted him as he entered the apartment was the view of Mary Margaret obsessively scrubbing a dish in the kitchen.

“Love, is abusing the Brillo pad a good way to end the evening?” he asked gently, as he crossed his arms over this chest and waited for her answer. She stopped her scrubbing, only to deposit the plate in the water-filled sink.

“Dishes were just piling up…” she trailed off, not really meeting Killian’s eyes. He sighed, removing his black leather jacket and going to take a seat at the counter.

“Perhaps your actions are more related to David stopping by than the actual need to have a perfectly clean household?” he said, and Mary Margaret looked at him as if she were a deer caught in headlights. “I saw him leaving with a sulking expression as I pulled up.”

“We just, uh” Mary Margaret let the dish drip before she put it on the rack, avoiding his gaze and stumbling on her words, “he just-”

“Aye, you both just,” Killian sighed, running a hand through this hair. “For what is worth, I believe you did the right thing, love.”

“Well, he made a pretty compelling case,” she replied, her hands attacking the next dish.

“I know - I was at the party,” Killian admitted.

“What do I do?” she asked, her nail fidgeting with the side of her forefinger, her voice dropping to a low whisper that was filled with longing.

“First, you need to stop cleaning,” he said kindly as he stood up and extended his hand, palm up. “And have a drink.” He cocked an eyebrow.

Mary Margaret gave him a small laugh that didn’t quite lift his spirits, but he’d take it for now. She gave him her hand and he squeezed softly before he redirected her to the table and made her sit. He retrieved the brand new bottle of rum he’d purchased a few days before - his first contribution to the household - and two glasses. He poured a healthy amount in each as he continued speaking.

“Lass, I don’t know much about relationships - other than having my heart broken followed by a string of one-night stands and poor choices.” He handed her one of the glasses before he sat on the other chair and faced her. “But generally speaking, if you think that something you want to do - or a certain activity you want to partake in - is wrong, then it usually is.” He gave her a soft smile, his eyes looking at her with fond concern. “You have to stay strong, Mary Margaret. And he needs to figure out his life. You deserve better than this situation and you know it.” He raised his glass and clinked it with hers. “Cheers. Bottoms up.”

Mary Margaret downed half of her glass with one gulp, grimacing as it went down.  “Did you ever feel - with Emma - that it wasn’t right?” she asked hesitantly.

Killian took another sip of his drink, letting the alcohol burnt his throat before he answered. “ _Never_.” The word came out broken, the sting of the drink adding a rawness to it.

“Then what happened?” she asked curious, leaning her body forward, her elbows resting on her legs, the glass cradled between her hands.

He didn’t want to talk about the circumstances that led to him and Emma parting ways, the wound still very much un-healed even after a decade. He’d kept that pain deep within him, as his silent companion, never speaking of it. He wasn’t even sure he could go there. He’d always secretly believed that the reason he hadn’t completely fallen apart was because he’d never talked about it, the pain woven through every part of him somehow also holding him together. The moment he talked about it - the moment he shared the story with someone, anyone - he feared he’d simply unravel, never able to put himself together again.

Mary Margaret let the silence stretch between them, tilting her head to the side and offering him a comforting smile. “It okay, Killian,” she whispered, one of her hands reaching to squeeze one of his. “Maybe one day you’ll trust me enough to tell me.”

He swallowed, marveling at her selfless offer for comfort when he was the one that should’ve been comforting her.

“Aye, I truly hope so,” he admitted.

/-/

Killian sat at his desk at the station, his eyes scanning an old file. It turned out that, so far, the only difference between his bail bonds work and being a deputy had been trading stale coffee and uncomfortable hours sitting in his car in a stakeout, for terrible coffee and uncomfortable hours sitting at his desk at the station. _Action_? Not so much, not after the stunt they pulled on the mines.

He closed the manila folder and placed it down on his desk. He was about to pick up another when Graham walked in, carrying a box of _bloody doughnuts_ from the local bakery in his hands.

“Mate, really?” Killian asked, his voice making it clear he found this beneath the sheriff - and mostly - him.

“What can I say? Sometimes clichés are true,” Graham shrugged, opening the lid of the box so Killian could take a peek. He looked from one to another, noticing the bear claw almost right away. He hadn’t had one in years, but it didn’t mean they weren’t the first thing he’d always looked for.

“Alright, spill. What do you want?” He cocked an eyebrow at Graham, not willing to take the bribe before knowing what he was committing to.

“Remember when I said no night shifts?” Graham grimaced and Killian could see how this sentence was going to end. “I need you to work tonight. Just this once.”

“You better have a good excuse for that one, Sheriff, because I had plans today.” There were two half-truths in there and Killian knew it. One, no matter what he was promised, he was Deputy and Graham was Sheriff. The other man was his _boss_ , so Killian could have thrown any tantrum he wanted, he still would have had to follow orders. And two, he didn’t exactly have plans tonight - at least not any set in stone - but he had been toying with the idea of asking Mary Margaret to go with him to the local bar, have some beers and hot wings. He had hoped it would take her mind off David Nolan and perhaps he could find a suitable, eligible, _single_ decent guy for her. There had got to be one in town, _somewhere_. Perhaps Graham -

His thoughts were interrupted by Graham’s voice. “I volunteer at an animal shelter, and the supervisor’s sick, and someone needs to feed the dogs.”

On further thought, _why hadn’t Graham and Mary Margaret fallen for each other_? It seemed they were both so bloody perfect for each other with their good deeds and optimism. He would have to look into that, perhaps make some hinted remarks to one and the other, see what came out of that.  But it would not be tonight, clearly, as Graham had civil duties to perform elsewhere.

“You’re too good for your own good,” Killian said as he reached for the bear claw, “and for the price of one bear claw, I will cover the night shift.”

“Well, you do sell yourself cheap, Jones,” Graham joked, “I thought I’d have to at least relinquish half of the box.”

“What can I say, I’m easy, Humbert. I’ve never been able to resist a pair of pretty eyes.” Killian batted his eyelashes at him. “And you have such pretty eyes.”

Graham’s retort died in his lips as Mary Margaret barged into the station and headed directly towards Killian’s desk. “Killian, can I talk to you for a minute?”

Humbert cocked an eyebrow at him amusedly, clearly getting the _wrong_ idea but before Killian could say anything, he was retreating towards his office. “I’ll just go patrol my office and leave you _birds_ alone.”

_Oh, bollocks._

The moment Graham was out of earshot, it was as if a dam had broken in Mary Margaret. “He left his wife. David – he left her. He left Kathryn.” The entire sentence was pronounced in one breath, and now Mary Margaret was gesticulating with her hands, clearly agitated over this ordeal.

“Slow down, love,” Killian started and she took a deep breath.

“He did it for me.” And she was back at speaking at the speed of light as she walked to the other side of him and Killian had to turn in his chair to follow her. “He wants me to be with him. He wants me to meet him tonight.”

“That’s- well-”

“I mean, I’m trying so hard to be strong, but he just keeps coming.” She paced to the other side again. “I mean, how do I stop it? You know, how do I let him down? What would you do?”

There was such longing in her voice, and such hope hidden in it, that even if part of Killian was still repelled by the idea - the man had _just_ left his wife - he simply didn’t have the heart to crush her dreams.

“I’d go,” he shrugged.

That seemed to finally made Mary Margaret stay still. “What?”

“Well, lass, he left her,” Killian pointed out. “It’s one thing to say that he wants you, but it’s another to actually make a choice and now, it seems that he has. That’s all you can ask for.” He still felt the need to leave her heart a little guarded, just in case. “Just, you know, tread carefully.”

Mary Margaret leaned on his desk. “Given her new friendship with Kathryn, I don’t think Regina would be happy. “

_Oh_. “Regina - aye, that won’t be a good thing but, the heart wants what the heart wants.” Killian placed the bear claw on his desk and cleaned his fingers before he reached for Mary Margaret’s arm, his eyes boring into hers. “If he’s willing to fight for you, maybe - _just maybe_ -  he might deserve you.”

Mary Margaret’s eyes were lost in a sea of her own hope. “Good Lord, is this really happening?”

“It seems so.”

/-/

Since he had the night shift, Killian felt no remorse in leaving Graham to his own devices for the rest of the afternoon and heading back to the loft to catch some shut-eye before the beginning of his patrol. Throughout the years, his random sleeping patterns and work hours had made it easier for him to simply command sleep to come to him regardless the time of day, and sometimes a quick nap brought him more rest than a restless night filled with nightmares and aching.

 The small mezzanine of the loft had become a very welcoming lodging for him, the one that felt more like a bedroom than a lot of the places he’d had over the years. The spread was a little flowery for his taste - maybe a lot - but he knew how much Mary Margaret had put of her own heart into arranging this place for him. He couldn’t care less if it seemed more appropriate for a young girl than an old rapscallion like him. It was the thought that counted. And Mary Margaret’s welcoming thoughts could be counted in spades in that little room. He could buy something more to his taste - a navy blue comforter and some naval themed sheets - once he finally got a steady paycheck.

He woke up after a couple of hours and took a long shower, before pulling on his jeans, a shirt and a soft sweater to keep him warm if the night were to get a little chilly. He grabbed his leather jacket and shot a text to Mary Margaret as he left the loft, wishing her good luck on her date later that evening.

Killian was no stranger to spending long nights working. He’d spent half of his last job doing stakeouts, spending countless hours sitting in his parked car, waiting for skips. Night patrols weren’t that much different, if he were to admit it, the only thing that varied was that he was constantly driving the town streets instead of standing still in one place. Other than that, the coffee still tasted like tar, the night was still too silent and the ghosts of his past still decided to show up, reminding him of all the other nights he’d spent wandering around with Emma, either driving around with no purpose or laid over the hood of the car watching the stars.

He was deep in those thoughts, remembering one night at the very beginning, when they were still walking that line between acquaintances that didn’t quite trust each other and friends, where he had shown her the stars and told her everything he remembered from Liam’s stories. She’d listened, mesmerized, asking questions as she kept pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose, her green eyes so pure and honest in that moment that he knew then he’d never look into another girl’s eyes in the same way he looked into hers.

From the corner of his eye, a flicker of movement at a second floor window of Regina’s house caught his attention. He cursed his luck, as of all the places in town a burglar could decide to rob, it had to be the mayor’s house on the night he was assigned the patrol? He pulled over as soon as he was able and got out of the car, slowly making his way towards the gap in the hedge, his nightstick ready in his hand. The moment the man made it to the sidewalk, he ambushed him, throwing all his weight into the hit. Caught by surprise, the man fell to the ground and in that moment Killian saw the streetlight illuminating his face. He gasped as he recognized Graham.

“You call this volunteering, mate?” he spat, shoving Graham one more time. His clothes were in an interesting state of disarray and he was carrying his jacket in his hand. He quickly stood up, grunting.

“Plans changed,” he said, not meeting Killian’s eyes. “Regina needed me to-”

“Spare me the details, Humbert. If you needed me to cover your shift for a bloody booty call, you could have just said so.” Killian clenched his jaw. To be honest, he couldn’t care less who Graham - or Regina - slept with. This put a damper on his plans to set him up with Mary Margaret, but other than that, it was none of his god damn business. But he didn’t like being lied to. “Why were you sneaking out the window?” he asked confused.

“She didn’t want Henry to know.”

_Now, that he had a problem with._

“She’s lying to her son?” He couldn’t help the next words that came from his mouth. “You’re both lying to _my_ son?”

“Killian, let me explain, I-”

“You know what, Sheriff. I don’t want to hear it tonight. You could have just been honest with me from the beginning about your liaison with her. You offered me this job, you asked me to help you at the station. You _knew_ things between me and the Mayor were tense, there was no need to keep me in the shadows if we were going to be a team at the station.” He tossed him the keys of the patrol car. He had to get out of here. “You can finish the bloody shift for me, mate.”

He turned around and walked away. The Rabbit Hole wasn’t far away and he had all the intention of drowning all his frustrations with more than one healthy dose of rum.

He didn’t make it back to the loft until late that night, and considering that Mary Margaret still wasn’t back, he was glad that at least one of them seemed to be having a pleasant night. He climbed the stairs carefully, the alcohol making his movements slightly clumsy, and he stripped out of his clothes, not bothering with pajama pants as he climbed into the bed only in his boxer briefs, ready to put the night behind him.

/-/

He decided to sleep in late the next day, not really caring if he missed part of his shift - or all of it. He was supposed to have the day off after the night shift and he still intended to benefit from that.  Mary Margaret was gone by the time he made his way downstairs, a slight headache a sign of the mild hangover he was sure he’d be nursing for the rest of the day. He sighed, running a hand through his hair as he turned on the coffee machine and opened the fridge to search for something to eat. There were eggs and bacon and Killian’s mouth began to water at the idea of a hearty breakfast. Deciding that the best way to start the day after his dreadful night was to start fresh, he quickly jumped into the shower while the coffee was brewing.

One shower, two cups of coffee and a fantastic plate of scrambled eggs and bacon later, he took the time to tidy up. He cleaned the kitchen, did his laundry and sat down with a book to kill a few hours.

Mary Margaret had texted him that she would be out late in a school meeting and by the time the sun was setting, Killian had had enough of the apartment and headed for Granny’s. The sight that welcomed him as he entered was the one of a slightly inebriated sheriff throwing darts with deadly accuracy. Killian’s frustrations from the night before came crawling back and he clenched his jaw to reign himself in. He refused when Ruby asked if he wanted a drink, choosing to simply leave. A dart thrown in his direction, sticking into the doorframe right by his head was enough to make him stop and face Graham again.

“What in the blazes, Humbert? You could have hit me!”

“I never miss, Jones,” Graham said, downing his drink and walking towards him. “You missed your shift.”

“Sheriff, this is not the time nor the place to have this conversation,” Killian pointed out. “And if you’re so discontented with my performance, you can always fire me,” he said as he walked away.

Graham followed him out to the street. “You’ve been avoiding me because of Regina, haven’t you?”

Killian didn’t want to have this conversation, and it seemed sarcasm and quips were the only way he was going to get out of it. He turned around, turning on his best smug smile, his eyes all but blazing at the other man. “Mate, this is looking quite weird and I was under the impression, after seeing you practically leaving Regina’s bed last night, that you didn't bat for this team. So which one is it? Do you find me that attractive?”

Graham might be slightly intoxicated, but he was no fool. “Don’t give me that bullshit, Killian. We’re partners.”

“We’re barely acquaintances, Graham. You’re my boss. Nothing else,” Killian retorted. “Whatever you do with your personal life is not of my business.”

“Can we talk about this?”

“ _Why_?” He really couldn’t understand why Graham wanted to discuss this with him.

“Because I have no one else to talk but you, Jones. No one.” There was such despair in Graham’s voice that it almost made Killian cave. But he wasn’t here to get involved in people’s personal lives. He had enough with Henry’s insistence they all came from a fairytale world. He’d already let Mary Margaret get deep under his skin in a way that none ever since Emma had - although in a completely different and non-romantic way. He didn’t have time to help the Sheriff sort out his love life. Especially when said love life involved the adoptive mother of his son.

“Mate, go talk to Archie about your bad judgement,” he said, exasperated.

“You don’t know what it’s like,” Graham insisted, leaning against the wall brick of the alley, his eyes lost. “You don’t know what it’s like with her-”

_Bloody hell._ “Probably not, but bad relationships are just that, Graham. Bad,” Killian offered, running a hand through his hair and leaning in next to Graham, wishing he had his old flask with him.

“I know you and Regina have issues and I should have told you about us before you took the job.” Graham said, and Killian nodded at that.

“Why the secrecy? We’re adults and I’m hardly some naive maiden. I have my own track record of poor choices and shady liaisons. It’s not like I was going to be horrified by it. You’re screwing the mayor, big deal.”

“I just - I don’t know, I guess I didn’t want to admit there’s nothing there,” Graham said. “That I feel nothing. And if I say something to you...”

“Then you would have to admit it to yourself,” Killian sighed, clasping his hand on Graham’s shoulder. “It’s too late for that now.”

Graham was startled, his eyes lost in the horizon for a brief minute before he shook his head.

“Are you alright?” Killian asked worried.

“I don’t know, mate. I don’t know,” Graham sighed. “I-I better go.”

“Do you- do you want me to go with you?” Killian asked, fearing that Graham wouldn’t make it back home in one piece.

“No, I’ll be fine. See you tomorrow at the station, Jones.”

“See you tomorrow, Humbert.”

/-/

Killian retired early for the night after his strange meeting with Graham, falling into a somewhat peaceful slumber for most of the night. He was down the next morning in time to see the bouquet of flowers sitting by the counter.

“Mary Margaret?” he called and turned to see her coming into the living room with a stack of folders. “I take it that things went well with David two nights ago?”

Mary Margaret’s face turned into a sad expression and Killian wanted kick himself. “I - David remembered. He decided to go back to his wife and give his marriage another chance,” she said in a soft voice.

“Love,” Killian started to take a step towards her but she cut him off, moving to the side and speaking quickly, keeping herself entertained with the folders and the flowers.

“It’s fine. I’m fine,” she repeated almost to herself.

Something still didn’t sit well with Killian. “Then who sent you the flowers?”

Her face turned crimson, her eyes avoiding his as she put the flowers in a vase. “Uh… Dr. Whale.”

“Why would Dr. Whale-” Killian started before he put two and two together just in time for Mary Margaret to give him a pointed look. “ _No_. Really?”

“It’s a disaster,” she sighed.

“Well, I wouldn’t call it that,” Killian said. Granted, he wouldn’t have pegged Mary Margaret for the type to pick up a guy for rebound, but it seemed to be working in her benefit. “It seems things are going well and you’re getting over David.”

“First of all, there’s nothing to get over and second of all, it’s just a one night stand,” she defended herself.

“There are flowers involved, Mary Margaret. That is _not_ a one night stand.”

“Maybe I shouldn’t have called him.” Mary Margaret sighed.

“ _You_ called _him_?” Killian asked shockingly.

“Well, okay – I’m still learning. I never had one before.” She was pacing around the apartment, avoiding his gaze. “I felt guilty.”

Killian chuckled and stopped her pacing, bringing her to his side in a friendly hug. “Lass, no. Rule number one of a one night stand: _you never call._ Actually, you don’t even stay for breakfast. You leave in the middle of the night.” He gave her a side smile. “Without ever mentioning it again…”

She smiled at him. “Wow. You have a little of experience with that, don't you?” There was something in her tone that made Killian slightly uncomfortable, but in a good way.

“Why do I feel I’m being judged by me mum?” he cocked an eyebrow at her and she rolled her eyes, extricating herself from his arms. 

“Maybe because I’m _supposed_ to be your mother,” she said matter-of-factly.

_Gods, he hadn’t thought of that. And here he was, discussing one night stands with the woman._

He ran his hand through his hair. “If this curse proves to be true, we’re going to need so much therapy.”

She tilted her head to the side. “I don’t think even Archie could repair that kind of damage.”

“Are you going to be okay??” he asked concerned. He hated the idea of Mary Margaret being sad over this.

“Yeah,” she nodded. “I’ll get there.”

“Maybe you should give the doctor a chance?” Killian suggested. “He sent you flowers, after all.”

“I don’t think he wants a relationship,” Mary Margaret said, as she grabbed her things and readied herself for school.

Killian’s thoughts went back to the idea that had been on his mind for a few days and he decided he might as well put it out there. “What about Graham? Have you ever thought that you and him... Perhaps? You’d make a good match.”

The stare that Mary Margaret gave him was a clear answer. “I’m not that naive not to know he’s sleeping with the mayor, Killian.”

“True, but it seems that things might not be going well. I’m just saying-”

“Hey, how about we talk about _your_ love life for a change?” she interrupted him.

“I don’t have a love life. Nor do I intend to,” Killian said. “One nights work pretty well for me. I know the basics.” He cringed at the harsh tone of his words but Mary Margaret didn’t seemed the least bit fazed.

“I know you’re still hurting, Killian. And there’s that wall you’ve built,” she gave him a soft smile.

“There’s nothing wrong with being cautious, love,” he said feebly, his jaw clenching. He knew she was right, he had a wall. He’d built it and fortified it around his heart for years.

“Oh, true. True. But, Killian, that wall of yours? It may keep out pain but it also keeps out love.”

_That’s what she got wrong. That wall wasn’t keeping out love, it was keeping it in._

/-/

It had been an odd day for Killian. He wasn’t sure if it had been triggered by the conversation he’d had with Mary Margaret early that morning, or the fact that Graham had seemed so out of sorts the night before. But when the clock struck noon and Graham still hadn’t arrived - or called, he started to get restless.

He’d left a few messages on Graham’s voicemail, but there had been no call back. Hell, he’d even tried calling Regina, but the Mayor told him that he wasn’t paid to meddle with the sheriff’s life - or hers - and that he should leave the issue alone.

_You may think you’re doing nothing, but you’re putting thoughts in his head. Thoughts that are not in his best interest. You are leading him on a path to self-destruction. Stay away._  
  
Killian wasn’t quite sure what Regina was referring to, as the only thing he’d done was tell Graham that his life choices were his own, but apparently Regina was eager to pin him as guilty for anything - or anyone - going wrong in this town.

He was still fuming from his conversation with her when Mary Margaret showed up at the station, her face showing signs of distress.

“Is everything alright?” Killian asked, “Did something happen to Henry?”

“No, no,” Mary Margaret said but she seemed hesitant for a moment. “Graham came to see me. He was - he wasn’t himself. Kept asking me about how long we’ve known each other and then he started rambling about past lives.”

“Past lives?”

“Yeh, he seemed very interested to know if I thought we’d met in a different life.” Mary Margaret paced back and forth, rubbing her hands together in a clear sign of distress. “I didn’t realize he was burning with fever, not until after-”

“After what?” Killian’s heart dropped to the pit of his stomach.

“I told him about Henry and the book. I’m sorry Killian, I didn’t know,” she said, her voice full of remorse.

He was by her side in an instant, placing a comforting hand over her arm. “It’s okay Mary Margaret, I don’t think Graham would hurt Henry.”

“We have to find him.” Mary Margaret pleaded.

“Aye, we’ll do that,” he promised.

It wasn’t hard to track Graham, considering Killian had a very good idea of where he might have gone. If he was delirious and thought he was remembering past lives - or if he believed in the curse - then Henry would be the first person he’d go see.

And just as they suspected, they saw Graham coming out of the Mayor’s house just as Killian pulled his car into the street, and he and Mary Margaret got out.

“Hey, mate,” Killian started slowly, trying to come up with his best soothing voice. “I heard you’re having a rough day.”

“Says who?” Graham asked, clenching his jaw. Killian noticed the slight disarray of his clothes and the way his eyes were not completely focused.

“Graham,” Mary Margaret started, taking a step towards him. “I told Killian. I’m worried about you: you were burning up, we need to get you home, have some rest.”

“I’m _fine_ , Mary Margaret,” Graham spat and Killian moved closer to her instinctively. He knew rationally that Graham wasn’t the type to hurt a lady, but Graham didn’t seem to be in his right mind at the moment, so he didn’t want to take any chances.

“You’re not fine,” he said firmly. “You just went to see a ten year old who believes fairytales are real for help.”

“He’s the only one making any sense,” Graham said, looking around him frantically.

Mary Margaret started to move towards the sheriff and Killian held her arm, not really wanting for her to get so close. She turned around and gave him a look that was half understanding his concern and half ‘I’ll do what I please’ stubbornness. Killian let go of her and she simply walked towards him.

“You’re usually not like this, Graham,” she said softly, her eyes searching his face, trying to understand. “What’s really troubling you?” her voice was soft, as if she were soothing a frightened and wounded animal.

“It’s my heart, Mary Margaret. I need to find it,” he said feebly.

Killian almost took a step back, worried about Graham and the fact that he wasn’t making any bloody sense, but Mary Margaret didn’t even flinch. It seemed she was more used to hearing fables than Killian. She tilted her head, as if she were examining the man’s words and taking them seriously.

“Okay,” she said in a tone Killian was pretty sure she used to placate her students. “And how are you going to find it?”

“I just need to follow the wolf.”

“ _Wolf_?” Killian said in disbelief and Graham startled. Mary Margaret snapped her eyes at him and Killian felt the silent scolding she was bestowing upon him. Clearly his tone had set back the work she’d been doing in calming Graham and reaching to the bottom of the issue. She turned around, her hand reaching to touch Graham’s face and making him look at her.

“Which wolf?” she asked, her tone the complete opposite of Killian’s prior and he took note of how well Mary Margaret was handling this as opposed to him. She seemed to reach to Graham in a way he wasn’t able at the moment.

“From my dreams. It’s going to help me find my heart. I need my heart,” Graham said in a desperate tone.

“Do you really think you have no heart?” she asked, her eyes boring into his, her hand still on his cheek.

“It’s the only thing that makes sense,” he whispered, closing his eyes, a tear running down his cheek. “It’s the only thing that explains why I don’t feel anything.”

“Graham, look at me,” Mary Margaret asked and Graham opened his eyes. Her hand moved slowly from his cheek and down his chest. She placed her palm flat over the left side of his chest, underneath his jacket and vest, pressing where his heart was. Graham looked mesmerized, not able to tear his eyes from her face. “You have a heart, Graham. I can feel it beating. It’s _real_.”

Graham shook his head but Mary Margaret didn’t let go, taking his hand and placing is over hers. “See? You can feel it too,” she said with a soft smile.

“It’s the curse, Mary Margaret,” he said in a strained voice, pushing her hand aside. “None of it is real.”

“Graham,” Killian said, taking a page of Mary Margaret’s book and speaking softly, soothingly. “You can’t really think that none of this is real. That we’re cursed-”

Whatever words he was planning to say were cut off by Mary Margaret’s gasp. She was looking at something behind Graham and she seemed in shock. Killian follower her stare and he had to refrain the colorful curse that came to his lips the moment he spotted a _bloody wolf_ with two colored eyes looking at them. He’d only been able to catch a glimpse of it the night he arrived into town and he’d crashed the sign, but he’d bet all his money - and his existence - that this was the same wolf he’d spotted that night.

_What in the blazes was happening in this town?_

The wolf stood there for a moment, its eyes moving from Graham to Killian to Mary Margaret.

“Be careful,” Mary Margaret said, her tone showing a slight hint of panic. Graham turned to look at her, giving her a soft smile, the first normal expression that Killian had seen in him that day.

“He’s my friend. He won’t hurt us,” he promised. At that moment, the wolf ran away and Graham took after it. “But I have to follow it.”

Mary Margaret exchanged a brief look with Killian, both of them sharing the same thought. They couldn’t leave Graham alone. He quickly nodded before they followed Graham down the street.

/-/

Of course the bloody beast would lead them to a graveyard. What better place to look for a missing heart than a graveyard?

The wolf seemed to have vanished, and if it weren’t for the three different people that had spotted it, Killian would have pegged it as a figment of his imagination by that point. But - and even if Graham might have been delusional - Mary Margaret had seen it too and she was currently between him and Graham, walking among the graves, looking for it.

What was becoming a fruitless search led them to the top of the hill, where an intricately carved mausoleum sat, noticeably better cared for than those around it.

“Perhaps we should head back,” Killian said, but Graham was looking at the crypt and he’d gone paler than before.

“Graham? What is it?” Mary Margaret asked.

“It’s my heart. It’s in there,” he announced as he took out his flashlight and made his way to the entrance.

“Mate, wait!” Killian called, pulling his flashlight and handed it over to Mary Margaret as he went after Graham.

“Stop! Graham, stop!” he called as he reached the man and pulled him gently out of the entrance. “You can’t desecrate a grave like this.”

“My heart is in there, Killian. I have to look in there,” Graham pleaded.

Killian sighed, running a hand through his hair. He knew that even if he were able to pull Graham away from here - resorting to physical force if needed - the man would come back at the first chance he’d got, and Killian and Mary Margaret wouldn’t be there to help defuse any situation that this might trigger.

“Okay, but let me try,” Killian said, trying to open the door and finding it stuck. “Stand back,” he called as he gained momentum and then threw all of his weight into it, the door giving way under the force of his shoulder.

/-/

The crypt looked exactly as creepy as you’d imagine someplace would be if it were hiding human hearts. Killian stepped in, followed by Graham and Mary Margaret. Graham started to search frantically, going through each one of the shelves and shaking one of the urns.

“It’s got to be in here, somewhere,” he started to pull at the urns and even the shelves, trying to loosen some of the boards. “Maybe there’s a hidden door. A lever. _Something_.”

Killian exchanged a quick look with Mary Margaret before he slowly approached Graham. “Graham, mate,” he started cautiously, not wanting to startle the already fragile state of mind of the sheriff. “There’s nothing here.”

“There has to be,” Graham said stubbornly, his eyes scanning the crypt, his voice shaky with fear. “If there isn’t, then-”

“It’s okay,” Mary Margaret said, her hands reaching for his arms and squeezing softly until she was able to calm him and have him focused on her. “It’s going to be okay. I promise,” she said with a soft smile and Graham tilted his head, nodding slowly.

The piercing sound of Regina’s voice tore the fragile calm they’d just achieved. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Killian pulled Graham and Mary Margaret out of the crypt as his eyes focused on Regina. “Regina? What are you doing here?” he asked confused, trying to make sense of the scene unfolding in front of him.

“Bringing flowers to my father’s grave like I do every Wednesday,” she spat at them and Killian felt the blood in his body running cold at the implication of her words. He didn’t have much time to react to the news before Regina had moved her attention to Mary Margaret.

“Miss Blanchard, I see that you’ve moved from giving damaging books to children, to disturbing the peaceful rest of the death.”

“Don’t blame her,” Graham said, standing in front of Regina, leaving Mary Margaret protected behind him. “It’s my fault. I wanted to look in there.”

“Why? What were you looking for?”

“Nothing, it was nothing,” Graham whispered defeatedly, his head hanging low, his shoulders slumped.

“You don’t look well, dear. Let’s take you home,” Regina announced in a soft tone that had more than just a hint of patronizing in it. She grabbed his arm and pulled him towards the exit, but Graham broke free, taking a few steps back and reaching Mary Margaret’s side.

“Regina, I… I don’t want to go home. Not with you.” 

Regina gasped in surprise, her eyebrow raising for a moment. Her eyes transformed into a murderous glare the moment they set on Mary Margaret. “Oh. But you’ll go with _her_.”

“This is between you two, Madam Mayor,” Killian said, his arm closing protectively around Mary Margaret’s shoulder. “Leave her out of it.”

“He’s right,” Graham said, turning to face her one more time. “This is between us and things have to change.”

“I wonder why that is all of the sudden,” Regina’s eyes were still trained on Mary Margaret with such venom that Killian felt the need to simply pull her friend out of this situation and leave the other two to figure it out, but a quick glance from Mary Margaret told him she wasn’t willing to leave Graham like this.

“It has nothing to do with her,” Graham insisted. “You know, I’ve realized that I don’t feel anything, Regina. And I know now it’s not me – it’s _you_.”

Killian could see Regina’s physical reaction to the punch Graham had thrown her with his words. She curled into herself for a moment before she bit back.

“What was it, Miss Blanchard? You couldn’t steal David Nolan from his wife so you decide to take Graham from me instead?”

“Regina, I’m not leaving you for her. I’m leaving you for me,” Graham insisted, his eyes looking for Killian and Mary Margaret for support. Regina’s eyes throw murderous looks at them.

“I don’t know what I ever did to you, Mr. Jones, to deserve this. To have you and _your friend_ keep coming after everything I hold dear. My son, Graham-”

“Killian has nothing to do with this, Regina!” the other man shouted, running his hand through his hair. “This is about us, about _me_!”

“None of this happened until _he_ got here,” Regina’s voice was so full of hatred that Killian took a step in front of Mary Margaret, shielding her from the words and the looks.

“Regina,” he said softly, not wanting to antagonize the woman any further. “Henry came to find me. Graham is now making his own choices. This has nothing to do with me - or Mary Margaret. Perhaps,” he sighed, “perhaps it’s time for you to ask yourself _why_ this is happening, instead of trying to find people to blame.”

She was in front of him in an instant, the force of her slap enough to make his head turn to the side. He wasn’t shocked by it. But it was better for her to redirect all her hate and frustration on him and leave Mary Margaret out of it.

“Regina!” Graham shouted, grabbing her arm and pulling her back. He gave her one look before he tilted his head and motioned Killian and Mary Margaret to follow him as he left.

Regina called for him several times, but Graham never looked back.

/-/

It had been silent journey back to the station. Mary Margaret wanted to go with them, but Killian was determined that she stay back at the loft. She had been involved enough in this ordeal and as much as Killian wanted her and Graham to become a thing - _eventually_ -now was not the time. So he dropped her off and then he and Graham made their way to the station.

The other man was calmer now, it seemed the fever and whatever had possessed him for the last few hours was gone.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me. I kind of lost my mind.” They were sitting by the deputy desks. Killian had pulled his old flask out of the inner pocket of his leather jacket and served them both a healthy dose of rum into a couple of mugs.

“Don’t fret. You were tired and feverish. And heartbroken,” Killian dismissed the other man’s apology. He knew a thing or two about broken hearts and bad relationships, and Graham’s delusional ramblings were nothing compared to some of the things he’d done back in the day. He wasn’t proud of any of it, but what was done was done and he couldn't turn back time.

“I don’t know why I let myself get caught up with her in the first place.” Graham sighed and took another sip of his mug.

“Because it was easy. And safe,” Killian shrugged as he played with his own mug. “Not feeling anything is an attractive option when what you feel sucks.”

“You seem to know a lot about these things, Jones.” Graham gave him an inquisitive look and Killian fidgeted under his stare. “Was it Henry's mother? Did you and her-”

Killian didn’t let him finish the sentence. He couldn’t bear the thought of someone thinking that, even if they never knew Emma. “Gods, no.” He ran a hand through his hair. “It was pretty much everyone after her. But Emma, mate, she was everything.” He trailed off, his mind going back to the moments he’d shared with Emma.

_“Killian why are we stopping here? You know the last housekeeping shift was two hours ago, there is no way we can sneak in.” She pouted and pointed to one of the rooms of the motel where he’d parked the Bug._

_“We aren't sneaking in, not tonight.” He pulled the key out of his leather jacket pocket. “I - I got us a room,” he stammered, averting his eyes to avoid hers, his cheeks blushing._

_“We can't afford this, Hook” she sighed, her tone soft and calm as she reached for his hand reassuringly. “The backseat of the Bug is more than fine… especially now that we sleep a lot closer than before.” Her hand moved down to his knee, her voice low and slightly seductive._

_He knew he was blushing but he looked at her anyway. Her eyebrows shot up in surprise, her curved smile changing into a “O” form. “Oh, Killian is that why you’ve been holding out on me? Because you think the Bug-”_

_He cut her off with a stutter. “You noticed?”_

_She rolled her eyes. “I might not have done it, but I’m not stupid, Killian. I know how things are supposed to go in these situations and clearly you have been holding back. Why? Is it me?” There was a hint of self-deprecation in her tone and Killian wanted to punch himself for making her hesitate like this._

_“No, Emma.” He reached out to kiss her, pouring everything he felt for her in that kiss. He rested his forehead against hers. “I just- you deserve better, so much better than me and the life I lead. The life I can give you. I just wanted to give you more, for one night at least. I wanted to give you a nice bed, soft sheets-”_

_“Stop it.” She reached for his hand and pulled it to her heart. “You’ve given me so much and you don't even know it.” She took the key from him with her free hand. “One night, huh?”_

_“For once, I want to fall asleep with you in my arms in a bed and pretend this is our life.” His eyes bored into hers. “Nothing has to happen, that isn't why I-”_

_She cut him off with a searing kiss that left him dizzy. “But what if I want something to happen?”_

_He couldn’t believe how lucky he’d gotten to have Emma Swan in his life. His lips curved into a smirk. “Well, I suppose we could.”_

_“Let's go inside, Killian.”_

“You really loved her, didn't you?” Graham’s words shook him out of his thoughts and Killian realized he’d been staring at nothing, his eyes lost, the hint of a smile on his face. He nodded.

_I love her still._

“Aye. We had nothing, and yet she made everything better. Every hardship, every bad turn life threw at us, none of it mattered when I got to hold her in my arms each night.” He drained his mug, needing the rum to keep his emotions at bay. “After she left, it was hard to make room for anyone else. No one could make me feel like that. I don't know much about love, but I know that if you’re not willing to give it all for the other person, then maybe it’s best not to give them false hope.”

Killian turned to look at Graham, but the other man’s eyes were lost ahead of him, as if he were someplace else. Killian feared that he’d been pulled into his delusions again.

“Graham, are you okay?”

His eyes were glassy when he looked at Killian, a tear running down his face. “I remember.”

“Remember? Remember what?”

But before he was able to say another word, Graham’s face contorted in pain and he put his hand on his chest and grunted.

“Graham!” Killian yelled as he watched the other man collapse on the floor. “Mate!” He shook him by the shoulders, but Graham didn’t respond. Desperate, Killian reached to feel his pulse. There wasn’t any. Killian massaged Graham’s chest as he started CPR. “Come on, Humbert!” he screamed, but it was pointless.

His heart was still and he had no pulse. Graham was gone.


	8. VIII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, life was hectic this week.

##### Chapter VIII

 

It had been two weeks. Two gruesome weeks of picking up the slack in the Sheriff’s Station of a town he had barely any familiarity with, of drinking himself almost to a stupor every night at The Rabbit Hole, and nursing hangovers in the mornings.

Two weeks of seeing Henry’s sad eyes and lack of a smile, the boy shutting him and everyone out. Of running into Regina and simply averting his eyes, determined not to play whatever game she was after.

Two weeks in which every day he contemplated how easy it would be to just pack his meager belongings and simply leave. Two weeks in which the only things that stopped him were Henry’s grieving stare and Mary Margaret’s heartbroken eyes.

Killian sighed, running a hand through his hair as he entered Gold’s shop. He couldn’t understand why the man had called him in the first place, and the hideous stench coming from whatever he was doing was making it almost impossible for Killian to think straight. What in the bloody hell was the man doing with lanolin and sheep wool in the twenty-first century?

But he soon sobered his wandering thoughts as Gold spoke.

“I just wanted to, uhm, express my condolences, really. The Sheriff was a good man.” He pointed to Killian’s belt where his badge was clipped. “You’re still wearing the Deputy’s badge. Well, he’s been gone two weeks now, and I believe that after two weeks of acting as Sheriff, the job becomes yours. You’ll have to wear the real badge.”

Graham was a good man. Far better than Killian would ever be, and no matter what a local ordinance would say, he’d never be able to properly fill those shoes. He knew he had to eventually. To take the badge that had been sitting over on the desk at the Sheriff’s office in the station and clip it to his belt. But he wasn’t ready. He wasn’t sure he’d ever be ready.

“Aye, I guess. I’m just not in a hurry. If that is all that there was, I better head back to the station.”

“I have his things.” Gold walked over to a small carton box that was sitting on the counter. “The Sheriff rented an apartment that I own. Another reason for my call, really. I wanted to offer you a keepsake.”

As if he needed more keepsakes from people he’d cared about one way or another, only for them to be lost to him. He’d kept the baby blanket he was found by the side of the road. He’d held onto a few possessions from the Joneses, the ones he’d managed to grab before he was taken and screwed out of his inheritance by a crooked social worker and unscrupulous foster parents.  He carried Brennan Jones’s old flask in his jacket pocket, close to his heart. He had hold on to Isobel’s engagement ring for years, dreaming of giving it to Emma when the time was right. Bloody hell, he still drove Emma’s car, a decade later. 

“I don’t need anything.” He took a few steps back, as if the physical distance would make the pain lessen.

“As you wish. Well, give them to Mayor Mills. Seems like she was the closest thing he had to family.”

“You’re free to do it, Mr. Gold, but I am not sure it’s the best idea.” Regina and Graham hadn’t ended on good terms and while they had been _something_ , Killian somehow knew Graham wouldn’t want his things to reach the Mayor.

“Look, I feel that all of this stuff is headed for the trash bin – you really should take something. Look – his jacket.”

The thought alone made Killian nauseous. “Brown doesn’t suit me.”

“Well, here. Your boy might like these, don’t you think? You could play together.” He held up a pair of walkie talkies, a hopeful expression of his face. Killian wondered - perhaps for the umpteenth time since he’d arrived into town - what Gold was scheming behind his polite facade. Because he didn’t buy for one second there wasn’t something in this for him in the long run.

“I don’t-”

“No, please. They… They grow up so fast.” He handed Killian the walkie talkies and he took them, eager to leave the place once and for all. “You enjoy these with your boy. Your time together is precious, you know? That’s the thing about children – before you know it, you lose them.”  
  
_Well, that was cheerful._ Killian thought as he tilted his head in a quick goodbye and left the shop, feeling more troubled than when he’d entered. He felt the need to find Henry and check on the lad, to see if his belief and optimism could bring him out of the funk he was in. Although Henry hadn’t been the same lately, Killian figured it was worth a shot.

/-/

Killian found Henry at his castle, the image of the boy sitting there so much like that first day he’d spent in town. He held the two walkie talkies tightly in one of his hands as he climbed the structure and sat next to him.

“I brought you something.” Henry didn’t look at him, his eyes lost in the view in front of him. “Perhaps we can use them for Operation Cobra?” Killian hated the way he sounded, so falsely cheerful, as if life could go on as if nothing had happened, as if tragedy hadn’t just struck Henry - and him - again.

“Thanks.” Henry’s voice sounded small and lost, and Killian’s heart broke in two.

“You’ve been ducking me for weeks, lad. Care to tell me why?”

“I think we should stop Cobra stuff for a while. You don’t play with the curse. Look what happened to Graham.”

“Henry,” Killian started, his hand aching to reach over for his son’s. “They did an autopsy. He died of natural causes.” Gods knew he wanted something to be found, anything that wouldn’t reduce Graham’s death to a triviality that couldn’t have been avoided. He wanted a secret, an almost imperceptibly poison. Heck, he would have taken the idea of an Evil Queen crushing his heart if that meant there was something that could explain it, if there was someone to blame for losing a decent man in such a futile way. But as much as Henry wanted to believe, life wasn’t a fairytale and there wasn’t a big bad villain responsible for the evils in the world.

Sometimes life sucked. Plain and simple.

“Whatever.” Henry shrugged and turned to face him. “You don’t believe – good. That should keep you from messing with it. And getting killed.”

His eyes bore into Killian’s with such fear that it almost made him lean back. Henry was scared of losing him to this fantasy. Or maybe he was just scared of losing him.

“You’re worried about me, lad?” he asked softly, trying to convey hope and understanding in his voice, even if he was a little short on hope these days - or in his life in general. 

“She killed Graham because he was good – and you’re good.”

“Henry.” Killian wasn’t sure what was more troubling: Henry’s fear for him, or the fact he considered his mother capable of murder. 

“Good loses – good always loses.” He sounded discouraged, disheartened, his little shoulders sagging as he averted his gaze to the horizon. “Because good has to play fair – evil doesn’t. She’s evil. This is probably best.” He thrust the walkie talkie back into Killian’s hand. “I don’t want to upset her anymore.” He grabbed his backpack from his side, stood up and left. Killian sat there for a while, letting the soft breeze mess with his hair, trying to avoid the tears that threatened to escape his eyes. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. It was never meant to be like this.

He gave Henry away so the lad could have a better chance than he did, so he could be raised and loved in a family. And today, only a few years older than Killian had been when it happened to him, his son was mourning the loss of the closest thing he had to a father.

/-/

Killian drove back to the station, placing a steaming cup of coffee from Granny’s next to the station keys on his desk. He picked the sheriff’s badge, the one that had been staring back at him for the past two weeks. Killian supposed that it made sense that he took on the job now, although there was this nagging feeling in the back of his mind that he’d never be able to fill those shoes.

His hand curled around the badge and he reached to open the clasp with his fingers.

“That’s not for you.” He turned around to find Regina standing by the entrance, smirking knowingly at him.

“It’s been two weeks – promotion’s automatic.” He cleared his throat, working very hard to sound secure and yet knowing he was coming short of that.

“Unless the Mayor appoints someone else within the time period, which I’m doing today.” There was the distinct sound of her heels clicking against the floor as she walked towards him, her hands buried on the pockets of her gray coat.

Killian clenched his jaw and tilted his head to the side. “Who is it?”

“After due reflection – Sidney Glass.”

“From the newspaper? What experience does he have?” He knew the words were a mistake the moment they left his mouth, Regina’s mouth curving into a tight smile.

“He’s covered the Sheriff’s Office for as long as anyone can remember.” She gave Killian a once over. “Besides, what makes you think _you_ are qualified?”

“I’ve worked in a branch associated with law enforcement for the past decade.” He shifted his stance, standing a straighter. “I know what I’m doing.”

“Graham was a good man, Mr. Jones. He made this town safe, and forgive me for saying it, but you have not earned the right to wear his badge.”

He knew that. Killian knew that he had no right to wear Graham’s badge or to even think of claiming the place the other man had held in the town. But Sidney Glass was not the answer. Killian was aware of what it meant for the station in the long run.

“Aye. I am aware that you’re grieving, Madam Mayor and I am sorry for your loss.” He watched as her mask fell and for a second she seemed small and lost, but she quickly recovered. “But Graham picked me to be Deputy, he wanted me to take over if something happened,” Killian said, trying very hard not to engage in a fight with Regina, but not willing to give up just yet.

“And he was wrong.” Regina took the badge from his hand. “You’re fired, Mr. Jones.”

/-/

Killian knew he wasn’t making the best impression as Mary Margaret walked into the loft to find punk music blasting from the stereo, a half empty glass of rum on the sideboard and him perched on a stool, his hands on the toaster as he was finishing with it.

“I fixed the toaster,” he provided by way of greeting and he could feel more than see Mary Margaret’s quirked eyebrow.

“I didn’t even know it was broken,” she supplied politely, as she crossed the room and turned off the music.

“It was making a sound.” Killian tilted his head apologetically.

Mary Margaret dropped her bags on the counter and crossed her arms over her chest. “Do you want to tell me what’s going on?”

“I needed to get my hands on something,” He sighed as he put the toaster back in place. “Regina fired me. She’s putting someone she can control as Sheriff.” Killian ran a hand through his hair. “That’s _my_ job.”

Mary Margaret’s mouth twisted in a surprised expression and she moved to take the groceries out of the bag. “I’ve never heard you so passionate about it before, Killian.”

“I know,” he admitted, letting her have a little peak of the things he kept behind his mask. “I know I wasn’t that interested to begin with, but I want it back.”

Mary Margaret worried her lip with her teeth. “There must be a reason.”

_Gods, the way she could read him was scary._ It should be scary, but Killian felt one more time that need to simply tell her the truth, to let her see him for who he was and make her own choices. It was funny how long it had taken for real friendship to find a way in his life. “There’s always a reason.”

A knock on the door interrupted their conversation, and Killian stopped fidgeting with the toaster and went to answer. He frowned at the sight of Mr. Gold standing in front of him.

“Good evening, Mr. Jones. Sorry for the intrusion.” Gold balanced back and forth on his feet, leaning heavily on his cane. “There’s something I’d like to discuss with you.” Killian noticed the massive binder Gold had under his arm and he turned to give Mary Margaret a confused look.

“I’ll let you two talk,” she said after a beat, climbing the stairs towards the upper floor and Killian’s room. He wasn’t sure he was relieved she wouldn’t be subjected to whatever Gold wanted, or troubled that he had to face the man by himself after the day he’d had.

“Come in.” Killian moved to the side and motioned Gold to come into the apartment, closing the door after the man.

“I heard what happened. Such an injustice,” Gold offered, still holding the binder under his arm as he moved near the table.

“What’s done is done, is what me mum used to say.” Killian gave him the fakest smile he could plaster on his face.

“A true fighter, I see.” He didn’t miss the hint of contempt in Gold’s voice. It was so easy for men like him to belittle others.

“She’s the Mayor, Gold, and I’m... well, I’m no one.” Killian shrugged. He’d decided long time ago that he didn’t give a damn what others thought of him - Liam had taught him that at an early age - especially not men that liked to play puppeteer with the lives of innocent bystanders in order to get their own way.

“Mr. Jones, two people with a common goal can accomplish many things. Two people with a common enemy can accomplish even more. How would you like a benefactor?”

_Bullseye_. He knew Gold had a hidden agenda. He had to, men like him never did anything out of the goodness of their hearts. Men like him didn't _have_ goodness in their hearts. But Killian was willing to see how this was going to play out, especially if he could stay one step ahead of the game.

“Benefactor?”

“You mind?” Gold gestured at the table and Killian briefly nodded, waiting for the man to place the binder over the table and take a sit before he sat as well. Gold opened the binder, shuffling through the pages. “You know, it really is quite shocking how few people study the town charter.”

“The town charter?” So far, Killian wasn’t impressed.

“Well, it’s quite comprehensive. And the Mayor’s authority? Well, maybe she’s not quite as powerful as she seems.”

_Oh, see, that was interesting._  
  
/-/

He could lie and say he wasn’t one for dramatic entrances, but Killian had always enjoyed a little flair for dramatics - according to Emma, anyway. It had been a nice way to counterbalance the tedious parts of his job, the ability to saunter over to a skip and deliver the perfect punchline just as he slapped the cuffs on.

“Please welcome your new Sheriff!” Regina exclaimed with a proud smile on her face, her fingers just about to pin the Sheriff’s badge into Sidney’s chest. That was the moment when Killian went in.

“Now, hang on a second.” He had a smirk plastered on his face as he strolled into the Mayor’s office.

“Oh, Mr. Jones, this is not appropriate,” Regina said in a condescending tone, not giving up an inch on the smile on her face.

“The only thing not appropriate is this ceremony, Madam Mayor.” He tilted his head to the side, his footsteps secure as he stood in front of her. “You do not have the _power_ to appoint him.”

There was a flicker of something dark passing behind her eyes before she collected herself. Regina Mills didn’t like to be challenged.  “The town charter clearly states the Mayor shall appoint-”

“A candidate.” And she clearly didn’t like to be interrupted, but Killian Jones had always had problems with authority figures. He wasn’t going to start behaving now, not when there was so much at stake. “You have the authority to appoint a candidate. It calls for an election.”

 “The term ‘candidate’ is applied loosely.” Regina waved her hand, trying to divert the conversation to her own ends. It might work with the town residents that didn’t seem too keen to oppose her vision, but he liked to think he’d battled people tougher than Regina Mills in his life.

“No, it’s not. It requires a vote,” he countered, as he saw that same darkness creeping back into her expression. “I’m running, Madam Mayor.”

“Fine,” she said dismissively, as if this was nothing but a nuisance and a waste of time. “So is Sidney.”

“I am?” The man spoke from the first time and if looks could inflict pain, he’d have been on the floor from the one he got from Regina. “I mean, I am,” he professed with a little more determination, and it only cemented Killian’s belief that he was only going to be Regina’s puppet if he was elected Sheriff.

“With my full support. I guess we’ll all learn a little something about the will of the people.” Regina smirked, as if she’d already won.

It was a long shot, but he had to try. If nothing else, for the peace of mind that he’d tried everything humanly possible to prevent it.

“I guess we will.”  


/-/

Killian found Henry sitting at a booth in Granny’s and quickly made his way to him. He sat next to Henry, but the boy didn’t pay him much attention.

“How was school?”

“Okay,” Henry shrugged, his eyes focused on the newspaper he was holding in his hands. That caught Killian’s attention as he noticed the way the boy's shoulders were slumped in defeat.

“Anything interesting in the local news?” He asked nonchalantly, trying to get Henry to look at him.

“Sidney wrote it,” Henry said as he flipped the paper over and presented Killian with the upper part of the front page. The blood drained from his face and he felt dizzy at the sight of his most recent mugshot with the title “ _Jailbird_. _Killian Jones served time for theft, missed own son’s birth.”_

“Is it a lie?” Henry asked looking eagerly at him.

Killian had vowed that he wouldn’t lie to his son. He deserved the truth and Killian just wished the lad had been a few years older when he learnt about it. He shook his head and sighed, giving his son a self-deprecating smile.

“You were in jail when I was born?”

“Aye,” he admitted in defeat. “Those records were supposed to be sealed.” Killian had worked hard to have them sealed, even if he’d served time at a regular prison and not juvie due to his recent 18th birthday, he’d been able to plead with the judge about the status of his case and the stigma that a sentence like his could have on his future. He wasn’t sure if it was his natural charm, or if he had simply inspired pity, but the judge had agreed to seal the records and Killian had moved on, working hard to build a life of his own.

“Did my birth mom know?”

“She must have, because that’s where I found out she was pregnant with you.” Killian said, drifting away to one of the most painful memories in his life.

_He had been locked up for a little over five months when the brown manila envelope arrived, a stack of papers inside... and her letter. It was a short letter, attached to the adoption papers, in which Emma pleaded with him to give their unborn child the best chance they could. It was the first time she’d made contact since he’d landed in jail and he wondered - not for the first time - what lies Neal and August might have fed her that she hadn’t shown up to see him. While a part of him wanted to be mad at her, blame her for not believing in him instead of what she might have been told, Killian knew Emma better than she knew herself. He knew how skittish and hesitant to trust others she’d been her entire life, a by-product of the abuse and neglect she’d suffered at the hands of a system that was supposed to take care of her. He knew he had torn down her walls and that she’d fallen for him as much as he had fallen for her. But he also knew that in this situation, and without him being able to talk to her - his attempts at contact were futile as she didn’t have a cellphone or an address to be reached at - she would revert to what she knew best: Look out for herself and avoid getting hurt._

_And he couldn’t resent her for it. He wouldn’t. As much as he’d like to plead with her to hold on for a few more months and wait for him, to bet on them, on a chance to be a family, Killian knew it was too much to ask for a just-turned-eighteen year old high school dropout that lived on the streets._

_A tear ran down his cheek as he signed the consent for the adoption, wishing things could be different. But he made a promise to himself in that moment. He was going to find Emma when he got out, and he was going to explain everything to her, begging for a chance to start over._

_The only problem was, he’d never been able to find her._

“Is that why you consented to the adoption?” Henry’s question brought him back to the present and he turned to find his son looking at him with almost a desperate plea in his eyes.

He nodded, not trusting his voice not to betray him. “Are you scarred for life?” He finally asked, wanting with everything in him to know that he hadn’t ruined his son’s life even more than before.

“Not by this.” Killian smiled at Henry’s sarcastic barb that reminded him so much of Emma.

“Let’s burn this thing to ashes and find somewhere better for our information. Like the internet, for example.”

Henry didn’t quite smile at his attempt to lighten up the mood. “This is what I’ve been trying to tell you – good can’t beat evil, because good doesn’t do this kind of thing. My mom plays dirty – that’s why you can’t beat her. Ever.”

The fact that he was being put in the ‘good’ column tugged at his heart, and he desperately wanted to be worthy of that. “Gold said he’s going to help.”

“Mr. Gold? He’s even worse than she is. You already owe him one favor. You don’t want to owe him anymore. Don’t do this.” Henry seemed genuinely scared and Killian wanted nothing more than to pull him into his arms and take him away for good. But he couldn’t, so he had to settle for putting the boy’s fears at ease.

“Henry, evil can only beat good if good cannot see the dirty coming. Lucky for you, I’ve known a few evildoers in my time to know how to play it. Trust me, lad.” He smirked, his hand resting on Henry’s shoulder. “It’s not about playing dirty. It’s about staying two steps ahead of the game.”

/-/

Killian barged into Regina’s office brandishing the newspaper. “Those records were sealed by court order.” He placed the paper over her desk and gave her a furious look. “I don’t know how you got it, but that’s abuse of power, and it’s illegal.”

“I’m sorry. You didn’t want people to know you were playing cards with other jail mates whilst the poor woman you impregnated was giving birth?”

He clenched his jaw, tilting his head and willing himself not to fall for the barb she was throwing at him. “I don’t bloody care what people know, but this hurts Henry.”

“He would’ve learned eventually.” Regina glanced over at him as she closed her bag. “We all lose our heroes at some point.”

She started walking away, but Killian wasn’t ready to let this go. “He doesn’t need to lose anything more. He’s depressed, Madam Mayor. He doesn’t have any… Any hope. Don’t you see that?” he pleaded, trying to appeal to Regina’s love for her son. He could understand why she wanted to drag _him_ down into the mud, but for the life of him, he couldn’t understand why she was so careless with her son’s feelings.

“He’s fine.” She waved her hand dismissively at him, as if he were a subject that was annoying her. She shut off the lights of her foyer and waited for him to exit before closing the door.

“He’s not fine.” He turned around to face her, unwilling to let her go until she could see what she was doing. “He’s watching his adoptive mother wage an illegal smear campaign against his birth father.  Don’t you find that upsetting?” He tilted his head, his voice cracking slightly at his words. “He just lost Graham, Regina. Correct me if I'm wrong, but that man was the closest thing he ever had to a father. Does he need to go through this?”

“I’m just letting him see the truth,” Regina countered, with a smug smile. “And as for the legality – I did nothing wrong.” She blatantly ignored Killian’s cocked eyebrow. “But you and Sidney will have a chance to get into all that at the debate.”

“A debate?” He almost choked on the words. As if he needed a bloody debate to have more of his past being dredged up before the citizens of Storybrooke.

“Yes, Mr. Jones, there’s a debate. You and Sidney can talk all about your jail experiences, as well as your new _benefactor_.” She cocked an eyebrow at him, her red lips curved into a knowingly smile as she walked to open the door. “He’s a snake, Jones. I’d be careful if I were yo-”

The rest of her words died as she opened the door and the explosion set off, deafening everything else. The force of the blast threw both Regina and Killian back, and when he lifted his head, he could see the flames licking the room and coming their way. When he turned around to urge Regina to get out, he could see her ankle trapped underneath the debris.

“I can’t move! Help me!” she shrieked.

Killian didn’t hesitate, reaching first to free her ankle from the debris and jumping through the flames to get ahold of the nearest fire extinguisher. Once he’d weakened the fire a little bit, he lifted Regina in his arms, urging her to hold tight as he hurried them outside the building.

The fire truck had arrived, and a few people had gathered as Killian tried to gently place Regina on the ground, but a coughing fit had him drop her with a little more force than intended.

“Oh, ow, ow! My ankle! Set me down gently!” Even when injured and when she should show at least a bit of gratitude at being rescued, Regina managed to find a way to belittle him.

“I’m sorry if my manners whilst saving your life are not meeting your standards, _Your Majesty._ ” Her eyes widened comically for a second and Killian realized the unintentional barb he’d made with his comment.

But soon Regina was back at being her regal self and scoffed at him. “The firemen are here. It’s not like we were really in danger.”

“By all means, then next time I’ll let them fight for the honor of rescuing you.” He turned away, running a hand through his hair, frustrated by this whole ordeal. “Actually, next time I’ll do the same thing, because she might not have been with me for decades, but me mum taught me to be a decent human being.” He tilted his head to Regina’s dumbfounded expression and chose to walk away, as he knew nothing good would come from talking to the woman in this state. Real danger or not, it had been a nerve-wracking ordeal for the both of them.

Killian spotted Henry talking to one of the firemen. The lad broke into a smile when he saw him. “Is it true that you rescued my mom?”

He simply waved his hand dismissively, whilst Regina tried her best to downplay the incident, anything to prevent a shift in popular opinion in Killian’s favor. But he wasn’t that worried about how Sidney was going to skew the story, not when the rest of the town was talking about him being a hero and organizing campaign posters. Not when Henry was beaming at him as he used to do - in the way Emma used to beam at him.

“This is how good wins, lad,” he said as he ruffled his son’s hair, a soft smile on his lips.

The same smile that faded the moment Killian spotted something that looked eerily familiar in between the debris. Something he’d seen not too long ago, in Gold’s shop.

/-/

Gold was still wiping something from his hands with a rag when Killian entered the shop, and that only fueled his conviction that he’d been involved in whatever happened at the Town Hall. Killian grabbed the fabric he’d stealthily retrieved from the fire site and toyed with it in his hands.

Gold took a look at him and gave him an eerie smile. “Lots of visitors today.”

“I know you set the fire, Gold.” Killian took a few steps and set the incriminating piece of fabric on the counter.

The pawn shop owner didn’t even flinch at the accusation. “I’ve been here all day, Mr. Jones. How could I have possibly been involved in what happened at Town Hall?”

“This fabric was found on the site. Surprisingly, it smells rather like the sheep oil you were using a few mornings ago.” He made _tsk_ sound with his mouth and tilted his head to the side. “ _And_ it’s flammable.”

Gold took a few steps further into the shop, standing at the other side of the counter. “Are you sure? There’s some construction work on at City Hall at the moment. There’s lots of flammable solvents used in construction.”

Killian wasn’t in the mood to play hide and seek with the local pawn shop owner slash powerful man in town. He decided to cut to the chase. “Why did you do it?”

“ _If_ I did it,” the other man said and Killian rolled his eyes at his antics. “If I did it, that would be because you cannot win without something big. Something like, uh… Oh, I don’t know. Being the hero in a fire?” He waved his hand about with a dramatic flourish.

Killian shook his head slightly. He _really_ despised men like Gold.  “And, let me guess. You have eyes and ears in this town that would let you know if I was in the right place at the right time?”

“Or maybe I’m just intuitive - were I involved.”

“You counted on me not being able to leave Regina behind.”

“Not the type.”

“I’m not doing this, Gold.” Killian stated resolutely, not willing to be a pawn in someone else’s power play.

“ _This_ is the price of election, Mr. Jones,” Gold shrugged with the calm of a man used to having his way.

“This is not a price I’m willing to pay. Find someone else to be your posterboy for your war against the Mayor.” Killian turned and made his way towards the door, Gold’s voice reaching him just as his hand was on the knob.

“Go ahead – expose me. But if you do, just think about what you’ll be exposing and what you’ll be walking away from. And who you might be disappointing.”

Killian smirked, looked at Gold over his shoulder. “Nice try, Mr. Gold. But trust me, I wouldn’t be disappointing the son that begged me not to get involved with you in the first place.”

/-/

Killian paced restlessly backstage, waiting for the debate to start. If it could be called a debate. It was more an opportunity for each candidate to give a short presentation, and then the people would cast their votes. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He was nervous. He couldn’t recall the last time he was nervous over something as silly as this.

_He couldn’t recall the last time he’d given a crap about what people thought of him._

Mary Margaret approached him and thrusted a piece of paper and a bottle of water on his hands, giving him a comforting smile.

He smiled in return, exhaling deeply as he voiced his thoughts to her. “I’m not going to win.”

She tilted her head in confusion and reached up to straighten his black tie and the collar of his white button down. Her hands smoothed the lapels of his black leather jacket. “What are you talking about? Everyone’s talking about what you did in the fire.” _The fire, aye. The one he’d decided not to use to his advantage._

“Henry is right, I can’t beat Regina at this. Not the way she fights. My reputation - such as it is - it’s going to get bloody destroyed as soon as I get behind that podium.”

“Killian.” She gave him that look Killian was fast becoming very used to. The one in which she was reading all the things he kept hidden from the world and silently chastising him for lying to her. “This has never been about Regina.”

He averted his gaze for a brief second as he pondered her words. “Of course it isn’t. It’s about Henry,” he admitted.

“You want to win this to show him that good can actually win fighting fair and that is a wonderful thing, Killian. But what about you?” She smiled encouragingly at him. “ _Why_ do you want to win the election for yourself?”

_Because I’d have nothing to offer him if I didn’t._

“If I’m not the savior, or his mother’s hero, if I’m not even his father figure - Graham was - then what am I to him? What part do I have in his life? I’m nothing but the man who sired him and wasn’t even around when he was born. I was in jail, Mary Margaret. Emma had to go through it all without me.” Killian’s voice broke at the last part, allowing himself to voice his deepest fears. “If all I do is disappoint him in every role he casts me in his life, then what is left?”

“ _You_ , Killian.” Mary Margaret was giving him a resolute stare. “The man that drove his son from Boston to Storybrooke and stayed around after to make sure he was going to be okay. The man that is still here, _trying_ , regardless of everything Regina is throwing at him. It’s not always about winning, Killian. It’s about trying.”

She was right, as usual. Killian took a deep breath. “There it is.”

“There it is.”

He dropped a soft kiss on her forehead. “Thank you, darling.”

“You’re welcome.” She beamed at him, a soft pat on his shoulder as she sent him on his merry way, off towards the stage.

/-/

Killian sat there, trying hard to control the way his knee was bouncing up and down as Sidney delivered his speech about reflecting the best qualities for Storybrooke: honesty, neighborliness, and strength. From the corner of his eye, he spotted Regina nodding and almost mouthing the words, one by one. He resisted the need to roll his eyes and scoff at the blatant ventriloquist act in front of him.

He was called upon the podium. Killian’s eyes connected briefly with Henry, who smiled in encouragement, before facing the sea of unfamiliar faces.

“I’m Killian Jones. You might recognize me from my mugshot on the front page of the paper yesterday,” he started, hoping a little self-deprecating humor was going to lighten the mood. But this was a tough crowd and he knew it. His eyes scanned the audience and he spotted Gold smirking at him.

Killian was tired of men like Gold. He was tired of men like him winning, pulling the strings of his life. But not anymore. If he was going to do something today, he was going to be the kind of man he wanted to be. The kind of man Henry could be proud of. He cleared his throat as he tried to find the words for his speech. Suddenly, he remember his brother Liam’s words the first time he had to give a speech at elementary school.

_You can do it little brother, I have faith in you._

“Yes, I have had a troubled past, but as my brother used to say ‘Start in the way you want to finish, Killian’. I’m just starting my life here… and if I can dare hope that you’d embrace me as your Sheriff, I cannot start with a lie. You think I’m a hero because I rescued the Mayor from a fire. But the fire was a setup.” He heard the gasps in the audience and he forced himself to go on. It was all or nothing. “Mr. Gold agreed to support me in this race, but I didn’t know that that meant he was going to set a fire. I don’t have definitive evidence, but I’m sure this was the case. I cannot, in good conscience, let you think otherwise even if it might help me win this race. That is not the Sheriff I want to be.” His eyes looked for Henry. “That is not the man I want to be.”

Gold stood up the moment he finished the speech and walked away, his cane hitting the floor the only sound on the room. Killian sighed before he nodded briefly and left the stage.

He needed a drink. _Or five._

/-/

Killian downed the first glass on two gulps under the amused scrutiny of Ruby.

“Another?”

“Hell, yes. And keep them coming, lass.”

Ruby was pouring him the second one when the doorbell jingled and Henry entered the place. He took a seat next to Killian and silently pulled a walkie talkie out of his backpack and handed it to him.

“What’s this for?” Killian hand held onto the device.

“You stood up to Gold. That was cool.”

“It was the right thing to do, lad. He did something illegal. And, I seem to recall you told me not to work with him.” Killian bopped Henry’s nose and he smiled brightly at him. Even if he lost today, his son’s smile was worth everything he’d done.

“That’s what heroes do – expose stuff like that.” Ruby came back with a glass of milk and Henry waited until she left to continue speaking in a whisper. “I shouldn’t have given up on Operation Cobra.” There was a newfound hope in him and whilst Killian wasn’t exactly keen on getting back into fairytale conspiracies, he was bloody happy to see a little bit of the old Henry back.

There was another jingle of the doorbell and Regina walked in with Sidney behind her. “I thought I might find you here. With a drink. And my son.”

Killian decided to ignore the barb in Regina’s voice and addressed Sidney directly. “Here to card me, officer?”

“Well, not at all. In fact, I think I’ll join you.” Sidney said in an amicable tone and Killian raised an eyebrow in confusion.

“Here? I don’t know. I thought they were setting up a back room for the victory party.”

Sidney shrugged with a small, uncomfortable, smile on his lips. “Oh, well, you’ll have to tell me what that’s like.”

_What?_

Killian’s eyes darted to Regina. The Mayor was holding the Sheriff insignia in her hands. She averted her gaze and her mouth tilted in a small pout. “Congratulations …Sheriff Jones.” Regina placed the badge on the counter. “It was a very close vote, but people really seem to like the idea of a Sheriff brave enough to stand up to Mr. Gold.”

“Are you joking?” It was all Killian could ask as more people started to pour into Granny’s.

“She doesn’t joke.” Sidney clarified and Killian nodded.

“Of course she doesn’t.” He should have known that, but Kilian was still amazed and his eyes looked for Henry. He was giving him a beaming smile, only to be matched by Mary Margaret’s looking at them from a safe distance.

“You didn’t pick a great friend in Gold, Mr. Jones, but he does make a superlative enemy.” Regina interrupted his thoughts, her smile carrying a hint of danger in it. “Enjoy that.”

/-/

Things felt different when he entered the station the next morning, carrying his meager possessions back. It wasn’t more than a notepad and a mug, but Mary Margaret had insisted he needed his own mug in the station as she gifted it to him that same morning. He sighed, his eyes scanning the place before he froze on the spot at the sight of Graham’s jacket, still hanging on the coat rack.

“The Sheriff’s jacket – I thought you might want it after all.” Gold walked in and Killian wondered for a brief moment if he could simply arrest the man for breaking and entering.

“What do you want, Gold?” Killian spat, clenching his jaw and reaching for his weapon.

“It was a great act, don’t you think? Political theatre in an actual theatre.” Gold must have noticed his disbelieving stare because he gave Killian a smug smirk. “I knew no one was going to vote for you unless we gave you some kind of extraordinary quality, and I’m afraid saving old Regina’s arse from the fire just wasn’t going to do that. We had to give you a higher form of bravery. They had to see you defy me – and they did.”

Killian wasn’t buying it. He couldn’t sense any outright lies from the other man, but he knew his kind. He simply shrugged nonchalantly. “You’re claiming you planned it?”

“Everyone’s afraid of Regina, but they’re more afraid of me. By standing up to me, you won them over. It was the only way.”

“Men like you always feel the need to pull the strings. Or feel that you pull the strings of other people’s lives, regardless of the outcome.” Killian pointed out, not willing to fall into the man’s recount of the tale.

Gold simply shrugged and headed to the exit. “Be that as it may, Mr. Jones, you still owe me a favor. I know that can be a bad feeling – owing someone. And now that you’re Sheriff -”

“I’d be careful in ending that sentence, Mr. Gold, unless you want me to press charges for attempting to coerce or otherwise corrupt a law enforcer.” Killian looked defiantly at the other man. Whatever pull Gold had in this town, he wasn’t going to let himself be dragged under by it. He hadn’t freed the Sheriff’s Station from Regina’s influence only to have it fall under Gold’s.  “Also, it’s _Sheriff_ Jones. Goodbye, Gold.”

Gold smiled at him, nodding his head. “Goodbye, Sheriff.”

He knew he’d made a strong enemy in Gold, but as his fingers brushed the Sheriff’s badge that was now clipped to his belt, he couldn’t care less.

Good had won. At least for the day.


	9. IX

##### Chapter IX

It had been a couple of quiet weeks and Killian had gotten into a comfortable routine of running the Sheriff’s station and spending time with Henry when he could. He wasn’t sure if Regina had allowed it - or if she was merely turning a blind eye, but either way he’d been grateful. He’d also made a habit of spending his evenings with Mary Margaret, helping ease the loneliness it seemed to surround her and even convincing her to hit the local bar once or twice a week. He had yet to find a decent bloke for her, but he hadn’t given up hope. Killian was sure there were some suitable choices in Storybrooke that weren’t married. _There had to be._

But the honeymoon period at the Sheriff’s office had to come to an end eventually and it wasn’t long before Killian found himself entering the local convenience store after a call from the owner about a shoplifting situation. The first thing that struck him as odd was running into Regina and Henry leaving the store.

“Henry, what happened?”

“Mr. Jones, must I remind you that genetics mean nothing. You shouldn’t be here. It’s all taken care of.”

Regina had a point, and Killian knew better than to go against her, but he couldn’t resist the words that came to his mouth. “I’m here because I’m the Sheriff, Mayor Mills.”

Regina rolled her eyes as if he were a nuisance she hadn’t been able to get rid of. “Oh, that’s right. Go on – do your job. Take care of those miscreants.” She pointed to the interior of the store as she motioned Henry out.

Killian focused his attention back to the store and the two kids that were looking at him with terrified expressions.

“Did you call their parents?” he asked Mr. Clark, the store owner.

“Uh, the number they gave me was disconnected.” Mr. Clark stepped into the back of the store to give Killian some privacy with the kids.

“Did you gave Mr. Clark a fake number?” He tried to give his voice authority without overdoing it, as the fear on the kids’ faces was almost palpable at this point.

They both shook their heads. He pressed for more information. “Then why’s it disconnected?”

“Cause our parents couldn’t pay the bill.” The girl’s voice was small, broken by fear and shame and it tugged at Killian’s heart. His eyes darted to the items lying over the counter. There were a few candy bars, but he could also see some necessity items in there. Food, toiletries. He could see all the signs. After all, how many times had Killian himself been in that same spot when he was young?

“You’re just trying to help out, aren’t you?” He gave them what he hoped was an encouraging smile.

“Please – please don’t arrest us. It will just make things worse for our parents,” the girl begged.

He’d love to have a few words with those parents. Killian really wanted that, but right now, he needed to ensure those kids were not more frightened by life than what they already were.

He motioned with his hand as he reached for his wallet to pay for the groceries. “Come on, I’ll take you home.”

/-/

It wasn’t a long ride until they reached the house. The children were sat in the back of the cruiser, holding the bags of groceries Killian had purchased for them. On first sight, the house gave him a bad feeling. It didn’t seem inhabited. Not really. The structure was there, but the door and shutters were closed and nothing seemed out of place. Something didn’t quite fit. Killian turned around and looked at them.

“This is it?” They both nodded. “Alright, let’s go.” He took off his seatbelt and reached to open the door, but the girl - Ava - stopped him.

“Please, no. If our parents see you, they’ll be so embarrassed.”

Something in her voice didn’t seem quite right. Killian tilted his head and studied her face. “Did Henry tell you about my superpower?” When both kids shook their heads, he gave them a tight smile. “I can tell when someone is lying to me. So, tell me the truth - other than money problems, is everything okay at home?”

Killian knew it was a long shot, the children had barely met him and they seem to run like a tight unit, with Ava doing the talking while the lad - Nicholas - followed her lead. So it was little surprise that it was Ava who looked straight into his eyes and delivered the perfected lie.

“Yeah, we’re great. Can we go?”

He wasn’t born yesterday, but he also knew he was not going to get a single word out of them at this moment, so he simply nodded and watched them get out of the car. They went up the stairs and turned around as Killian turned over the engine. The children waved at him and seemed to be waiting for Killian to drive off, which he promptly did.

He didn’t go far. Killian turned around the corner and parked the car. He killed the engine and got out. The children were no longer on the stairs when he made his way back to the house. He tried the door, and it gave way easily. He opened it enough to pop his head inside the house.

Not only there wasn’t a living soul in the house, but there wasn’t much to begin with. Killian sighed as he entered the house, verifying his worst suspicious as he took a few steps and noticed that no one  - and nothing - lived there. Not for a good long while.

A singular noise coming from the kitchen - as if a door were opening - made him walk towards that room, his hand reaching to the gun he kept at his hip. But he quickly drop the hand when he noticed Ava and Nicholas coming from the basement, their backs to him.  

“Why’d you guys lie to me?” he asked in a clipped tone and watched as the kids turned around, a horrified expression on their faces. “Where are your parents?” he insisted.

And then Ava delivered the few words that were sure to rip out his heart. “We don’t have any.”

 /-/

Unsure of what to do, or more accurately, hesitant to execute what he knew had to do, Killian made a quick stop at the Sheriff’s station to pick up any files they had on the kids before he took them to the loft. Mary Margaret hadn’t arrived yet - he recalled she had mentioned a teacher’s meeting at the end of her day -, and whilst Killian wasn’t a master cook, he could still throw a few things together in order to prepare a decent meal.

He glanced at the two kids that were looking at him with a mix of apprehension and fear, his mind taking him back to all the times he felt the same way when he was their age. Alone, scared, uncertain of his future, grieving. Killian sighed and tried to think of what type of food he could make for them that could at least put them at ease for a while.

And that is how Mary Margaret entered the loft to a sight of the three of them eating mac and cheese with juice.

“I saved you a ration,” Killian smiled shyly as Mary Margaret cocked an eyebrow at him, feeling like a ten-year old caught by his mother.

She sighed, running a hand through his hair before he grabbed a file and tilted his head for her to join him on the other side of the room, out of the kids’ earshot.

“Do you know them from school?” Killian asked when he was sure the kids were not able to hear him.

Mary Margaret look over Killian’s shoulder at the children with despair. “I’ve seen them, but… I had no idea. None of us did,” she sighed with defeat, as if she were berating herself for not realizing any of this, even if the children were not in her class.

Killian opened the file and read from it. “Ava and Nicholas Zimmer. They said their mother was a woman named Dory Zimmer. She died a few years ago. No one seems to know her or remember her.” He look up to find Mary Margaret shaking her head and if she couldn’t remember the woman either.

“And the father?”

Killian sighed. “There isn’t one. At least not one that they know.” It seemed to be a dead end.

“What does Social Services say?” She asked with concern in her voice. Killian’s mouth opened, but no words came out of it as he winced and gave Mary Margaret a sheepish look.

Realization dawned on Mary Margaret. “You didn’t report them.”

“I can’t,” Killian sighed. “I report them, I can’t help them. They go into the system.”

“The system that’s supposed to help,” Mary Margaret stated, only to be met by his stern eyes.

“Mary Margaret, you didn’t grow up in there. It’s not all it’s cracked up to be.”

She gave him a smile that had a hint of commiseration in it. If it had come from anyone else, he’d already be out of the door. But somehow, it didn’t bother him when it came from Mary Margaret. It made him feel cared for, in way that it was almost too scary for him to admit. “You - you had a good home.”

“But I was adopted when I was baby!” He tried to keep the emotion out of his voice, but he was failing and he knew it the moment his eyes filled with tears he fought off. “When the Joneses died and I went back to the system, it wasn’t nice… _at all_.”

“But perhaps for them-” she started but he cut her off.

“At their age, so close to the holidays, they won’t make it to a good home. They’ll get thrown into homes where they are a meal ticket – nothing more. These families get paid for these kids and as soon as they’re too much work, they get tossed out and it all starts over again.” His voice was nothing but a broken whisper. “Trust me, I know.”

He dared to meet her eyes again, almost ashamed of revealing that much of himself, even to Mary Margaret. All there was in her eyes was sympathy. “Killian, do you want to keep them?” she asked softly.

“I want to look for their father. They don’t know him. He may not know they exist.”

Understanding crept into her eyes. “You think if he knows, he’ll want them.”

He nodded, not being able to voice the thoughts he knew were showing on his expression.

  _I’ve always wanted Henry… I just couldn’t have him._

“I have to try. Because what I do know is hard enough finding foster families to take one kid that isn’t theirs, let alone two. It’s their best shot, or-”

The voice behind him cut him off. “We’re going to be separated?”

Killian and Mary Margaret turned to find Ava looking at them with tears in her eyes. Killian’s heart tugged at the image in front of him, so familiar for him that he’d lost count of the time he’d seen such despair in all the homes he’d been in.

“No,” he said reassuringly. “That is not going to happen.”

“Please – please don’t let it,” she begged with such desperation in her voice that broke his heart.   


/-/

Killian walked into the public registry office and looked for the man behind it. “Excuse me, Mr. -” He took a look at the little plaque set on the counter. “Krzyszkowski?”

After being corrected on the correct pronunciation of the name, Killian introduced himself. “I’m Sheriff Jones. I’m hoping to take a look at the birth certificates of Ava and Nicholas Zimmer.”

He was instructed to fill in some forms - in triplicate - and he was immersed in local red tape as the man busied himself looking in the filing cabinets. Krzyszkowski turned around with an unalterable expression. “I’m sorry, Sheriff. But the documents have been recently removed.”

“By who?”

He shouldn’t have been surprised by the answer. “The Mayor.”

Luckily, it was only a short walk down the hall from the registry into the Mayor’s office in Town Hall. He didn’t bother with polite greetings as he barged into the office and found Regina standing by her desk, rearranging some flowers. “Did you take the Zimmer kids’ file?”

Regina turned and quirked her smile at him. “Don’t worry, Mr. Jones. You can relax.” She walked around her desk and stood on the other side. “I’ve contacted Social Services. Turns out these kids are on their own. They need help.” There was a hint of something of a challenge in her voice, as if she was trying to see if he was going to falter at this news.

Killian tried to school his features, not letting Regina see how much this was affecting him. “I’m trying to help. I’m trying to find their father.”

“Well, he doesn’t exist.” Regina shrugged her shoulders in a dismissive way.

“He has to.”

She handed him the folder and Killian opened, his heart breaking at the “UNKNOWN” word underneath father in the records.

“Well, of course, biologically, he exists. But unlike you, there’s no record of him.” Killian could read in her words how much she’d preferred that he wasn’t listed on Henry’s birth certificate. “Which means we have no choice – these children need a home, so they will be put into the foster system.”

“Storybrooke has a foster system?” Maybe he could do some recon on the people, keep a close eye on them. Even if things went bad, he could perhaps convince Mary Margaret to-

“No.” Regina’s word put a stop to his hope. “I’ve contacted the state. Maine’s group homes, unfortunately, are filled.” Regina walked towards a side table by the opposite wall and pulled herself a glass of juice. “But they put us in touch with two homes in Boston – a boy’s home and a girl’s.”

_No_. 

“They’re separating them?” He couldn’t fight the emotion that was present in his voice or the way he knew his face was faltering.

“I don’t like it, either. But we’ve got no choice. You need to have them in Boston tonight.”

“ _Me_?” As if life wasn’t already a cruel joke.

“You wanted to be Sheriff.” Regina played with the rim of her glass as she looked at him. “This is what sheriffs do. Yes, you’re taking them.”

“I promised them they wouldn’t be separated,” Killian sighed, running a hand through his hair. 

“Perhaps you should stop making promises you can’t keep.” Her voice had a triumphal tone that made Killian shiver. “These children need a home. I’m just trying to find the best one.”

_Separated foster homes were not the best choices,_ he thought. But at this point, he had little else to offer them.

/-/

Killian had spent the rest of the day poring over files at the station, trying to find a lead. But there were none. He was caught up reading when he heard the door to the office open. He lifted his head and found Henry walking in, carrying his backpack and the storybook with him.

“Any luck?” he asked as dropped his backpack on the floor and put the book over on the desk.

“No,” Killian sighed, running a hand over his face in frustration.

Henry opened the book and flipped through it. “I know who they are. They’re brother and sister, lost, no parents,” he found a page and turned the book towards Killian, showing him an illustration of two children in a forest. “Hansel and Gretel.”

He had to give it to Henry, the kid was good at relating real life stories with the fairy tales from his book. “Anything in there about the father?” Killian thought it was worth a shot to see if perhaps this could inspire a real life lead.

Henry shook his head. “Just that he abandoned them.”

“Great.” Killian stood up and headed for the filing cabinet, pulling some missing person’s reports to see if there was anything in there. “He could be anywhere by now.”

“No, he’s here,” Henry said with conviction. “No one leaves Storybrooke. No one comes here, no one goes. It’s just the way it is.”

“You left,” Killian pointed out as he sat again and opened one of the files. “I came here.”

“Because you’re special. You’re the first stranger here – ever.” Henry insisted as he sat over the desk and Killian wondered once again how bad the situation must have been that Henry had concocted all these fables in his mind.

“Well, _if_ he’s still here, I will find him.” Finding people was what he did best. He just needed a bloody lead to start his tracking. Something. _Anything_.

“Speaking of parents,” Henry started and something in his tone made Killian lift his head. “Can you tell me more about Emma?”

Killian smiled at his son. “Henry, I-”

“Please?” he begged, his eyes wide with an aching need that Killian knew too well. It was the same he’d sported most of his life. “Were you together when you went to jail? What happened?”

It was all Henry had to say for Killian’s mind to drift to the night he’d pinpointed as the beginning of the end.

_It was a few months after his 18th birthday that they stood in a soft embrace at the entrance of that motel room. They were still spending most of their nights in the backseat of the Bug; but, somehow, the night manager had taken a shine to them. She’d let them use of the vacant rooms once a week, so they could have a hot shower and a warm bed. If she realized how young they were - or how they seemed to get by - she didn’t mention as she slid Killian the key each time, along with a 20 dollar bill he always refused to accept._

_But soon their hardships would be over. Once he succeeded in doing the pick-up Neal and August had told him about, his cut would enough to buy them a better life. He’d made sure of it when Neal and August had tried to negotiate with him._

_“I still don’t trust them,” Emma whispered against his neck, her lips caressing the bare skin and causing him to shiver, his hand tightening his grip on her waist as he pulled her closer to him. “August is always acting mysterious and broody as if that makes him interesting -” Killian chuckled at Emma’s clear distaste for the cryptic man, whose theatrics hadn’t impressed Killian either. “And Neal-”_

_It was her time to shudder and Killian held her tighter. Neither of them liked Neal that much, but Killian especially didn’t like the way his eyes would roam over Emma. He had thought about quitting on this task a few times and just taking Emma and driving the Bug far away, but the possibilities-_

_“I know.” His voice was exuding a calm he didn’t quite feel as he took a step away from her embrace and met her eyes. “I don’t like it either but Emma, this can change everything. This will change everything.”_

_His fingers interlaced with hers. “I pull this off and then we can be out of here… we can start over in another city. We’ll have enough money to rent a place and we can work on getting our GEDs and finding jobs-” he trailed off, his other hand reaching to trail her cheek and she leaned in further into his touch._

_“We can have the life we always wanted. The life we deserve.”_

_The life **you** deserve._

_Her lips claimed his in a desperate way, as if she were pouring all her fears and hesitations in that kiss, in the way she pulled him further into the room and towards the bed._

_“Promise me you’ll be careful. Promise me you’ll come back to me.”_

_“Aye, I promise,” he whispered as he laid her gently down on the bed and hovered over her, his lips never leaving her skin._

 

Killian cleared his throat, bringing himself back from the painful memories. “I made her a promise I couldn’t keep.” He met Henry’s eyes fair and square. “When I- when I went to jail, I was framed. Emma, she didn’t trust the men I associated with and she tried to warn me, but I didn’t listen to her. I promised her everything would be okay. And it wasn’t.”

_I left her alone, the moment she needed me the most._

“I never meant to betray her, but I did.” He sighed, running a hand through the back of his neck.

“Did you try to look for her? When you got out of jail?”

“Aye… but I couldn’t find her, m’boy” His voice was thick with emotion, his eyes welling with tears as he witnessed Henry’s heartache.

“I couldn’t find her either.” He tilted his head in that way Killian was so familiar with. “Do you have anything from her? Other than the picture you gave me?”

Killian sadly shook his head. “I’ll tell you what. You can have the Bug when you’re old enough to drive. It was her car to begin with.”

Henry beamed at him and Killian wished with all his heart that he could have something - _anything_ \- left from Emma to give to the boy. Something to know how much Emma had cared about him. Because he had no doubt in his mind that Emma had cared for the lad, so much that she let Henry go so he could have his better chance. Something the lad could hold onto for the rest of his life, much like he had held onto his baby blanket-

His eyes widened as realization dawned on him.

“Henry, I have to go… I think I know how to track this guy.” He quickly stood up and reached to kiss the lad on his forehead before he exited the station and headed to the loft. He had an idea on how to start looking for this guy.

He was halfway down the block when he realized it was the first time he’d kissed his son’s forehead.

/-/

He retrieved the box with his meager mementos and headed downstairs, where the children were eating milk and decorated cookies - Mary Margaret really had a knack for hosting.

“I want to show you something,” he said as he pulled his blanket out of the box where it was laying carefully next to a little box that carried a few mementos. It was a white one with blue ribbons and his name embroidered in blue as well.

“What’s that?”

“It’s my baby blanket. It’s something I’ve held onto my whole life. It’s the only thing that I have from… from the people that gave birth to me.” He couldn’t bring himself to call them his _parents_. Not even in this moment. “I’ve spent a lot of time with kids in your situation and they - _we_ \- hold onto stuff.” He gave them an encouraging smile as their eyes widened at his confession. Aye, a lost boy trying to help another set of lost children. “I want to find your father, but I need your help. Is there anything you’ve held onto?”

Ava gave him an inquisitive look. “I might… but if I give it to you, you'll make sure we stay together, right?”

“Aye.” He was going to do everything in his power to keep that promise.

She pulled an object from the pocket of her sweater and handed it to him. It was a compass secured to a chain.

“Our mom kept it. She said it was our dad’s.”

He took the compass with the reverence it deserved. “Thank you.” He turned it in his hands to examine it for possible clues.

“Did you find them?” Ava’s voice broke him out of his focus.

“Who?”

“Your parents.”

“No. I found people that raised me as their own until I lost them. After that, I knew it wasn’t worth looking.” He knew it was not the best tale, but he had to tell them the truth. “But I will find yours.”

/-/

Dealing with Gold was always something that Killian despised, and dealing with the man when he needed something from him always left him with a sour taste in his mouth. But alas, after some gibberish speech about craftsmanship of the piece and a request for forgiveness - Gold had to settle for tolerance because Killian wasn’t interested in much more - Killian had walked out of the pawnshop with a name.

_Michael Tillman._

It was quite easy to find the man working at his garage. What wasn’t easy was convincing him he’d fathered twins twelve years ago.

“It can’t be possible.” Michael held the files with Ava and Nicholas’ pictures in his hands, but refused to believe it.

“Aye, mate, but it is.”

Michael handed them back the files. “Dory wasn’t my - it was just once.”

Killian tilted his head.  “Sometimes, that’s all it takes.”

“I met her when I was camping… it was a fling. It can’t be. I don’t have twins.”

Killian had enough of the man’s reticence. It wasn’t the first time he’d found it in his line of work. “Yes, you do.” The firm tone of his voice caught Michael’s attention. “You have twins that have been homeless ever since their mother passed away. You have twins who have been living in an abandoned house because they don’t want to be separated from each other. You have twins who are about to be shipped off to Boston, unless you step up and take responsibility for them.”

“I can barely manage this garage. I can’t manage two kids. And why are you so sure they’re mine?”

He was going to punch the guy, God help him. “Besides the timing?” He took the compass out of his pocket. “Perhaps you’ve lost this, I don't’ know - twelve years and nine months ago?”

Michael froze as he took the compass and Killian felt sorry for the man. “Look, I know it’s a lot to take in.”

“What would you know? It’s not like you took care of yours.”

Killian clenched his jaw and tilted his head, taking a deep breath to calm himself. “Don’t talk about things you don’t understand, mate.” There was enough threat in his voice to make the other man recoil a few steps. He sighed, running a hand through his hair.  “I know it’s not easy. The son I consented to give up for adoption showed up at my doorstep a little over month ago, asking for help with… something. And I ended up moving here for him.” It was unbelievable that it’d only been a month since his life had changed so drastically. Only a month of meeting the one person - the other person - he knew he’d never leave in his life.

“Staying in town, it’s a lot different than taking him in.”

“You have a choice, I didn’t.” Killian met Michael’s eyes. “Those kids didn’t ask to be brought into this world. _You_ brought them into this world – you and their mother. And they need you. And if you choose not to take them, you are going to have to answer for that every day of your life. And sooner or later, when they find you – because believe me, they _will_ find you – you’re going to have to answer to them.”

But no matter how much he was trying to get through the man, it was a fruitless attempt. “I’m really sorry. I am. But I don’t know anything about being a dad. If it’s a good home you’re looking for, it’s not with me.” He handed the compass back to Killian and turned away from him.

He knew he should just let it go, just walk away and drive those kids down to Boston and hope they end up in a place where they were wanted. He should just do his duty as the Sheriff of this town.

And yet- Killian closed his fist over the compass. “I didn’t know anything about being a father either, mate, but that doesn’t mean we leave our children to their fate when they need us.”

/-/

He couldn’t face coming back to the loft. Heartbroken, he made a phone call to the one person he needed to talk with at this moment.

Mary Margaret quickly met him outside.

“He doesn’t want the kids,” he sighed in defeat.

“And you don’t want to tell them.” Mary Margaret was getting really good at reading him like an open book.

“I can’t tell them. I’ll be breaking their hearts.” He ran his hand through his hair. “I’ll be yet another adult that gave them false hope and lied to them.”

“Are you talking about them - or you?” Mary Margaret quirked an eyebrow at him. “Killian, the truth can be painful, but it can also be cathartic.”

“I have yet to see the cathartic part.” Killian offered with a quip, trying hard to control the turmoil of emotions he was feeling with this entire case. “Perhaps we can hide them, just until we find someone in town willing to take care of them?”

“The Sheriff talking about hiding two twelve year olds. This is a great plan, Killian.” It had to be the first time she was _this_ sarcastic with him.

“Do you have a better idea, darling?” He snapped back. “Something that doesn’t involve separating those kids and break their hearts?”

If Mary Margaret had a plan, she couldn’t say because they were interrupted by the Mayor.

“Sheriff, shouldn’t you be on the interstate by now?”

“Keeping tabs on me, love?” Killian knew he shouldn’t be talking like that to the Mayor, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

“Seeing to it that you do your job, that is all.”

“You don’t have to check up on me, Regina.” He took a couple of steps and invading her personal space, having the satisfaction to see her step back. “I know what I have to do. I’m quite good at it.”

This was a terrible - _terrible_ \- idea. He was playing with fire. Regina’s eyes avoided him for a second before she took a hold of herself.

“Have them in Boston tonight, Sheriff Jones.”

/-/

Killian couldn’t even make eye contact with the children as he drove them towards the town exit, Henry’s warning about them not being able to leave town still lingering in his mind. It was then when the patrol car started slowing and the engine making a few alarming noises. He pulled to the side of the road just in time, as the engine cut out and refused to start again. He gave it one half-hearted try to see if the engine would respond. It ‘didn’t’.

_Oh, well_. He had no option but to call in a tow.

It wasn’t long until Michael Tillman showed up and the way his eyes widened at the two children sitting in the back of the patrol car said everything Killian needed to know.

“That’s them.”

“Aye. I just wanted you to see them. At least once.” Killian swallowed, pushing his fears aside. “I didn’t think I could do it either. Henry’s birth mother and I, we wanted to give him his best shot. When he came to me, and I saw he wasn’t as happy as I wanted him to be, I couldn’t leave. Not until I knew he’d be okay. But now, now that I know him, I can’t go back. It’s all or nothing now.”

He met Michael’s eyes. “I’m sure the car will start again if I really get into it. I have to take them to Boston.”

“No, you don’t.” Michael quickly made his way towards the patrol car and Killian’s heart got a little rest from the turmoil of the past few days as he saw father and children fuse into an embrace.

It was a long day and by the time he finally made it back to the loft, he was knackered. Mary Margaret was sitting on her bed, folding laundry. Killian threw himself down on the bed. “Their dad showed up. Changed his mind.” He offered as explanation, but nothing seemed to get past Mary Margaret.

“Just like that?” There was that tone that probably would make eight year olds confess to the pettiest of crimes. And it seemed to be working on Killian too.

“I might have given him a little nudge.” Mary Margaret quirked an eyebrow at him. “Well, perhaps a shove.” His eyes focused on the ceiling, letting his own buried hopes and dreams come to the surface. “I’ve always wondered, you know? What it would be like to find them. After I lost my adop - my parents, I always thought perhaps my birth parents would find me… explain to me why they left me. But they never did.”

“You don’t need to find your birth parents, Killian. Not if you don’t want to,” Mary Margaret offered empathically, her hand squeezing his.

Killian propped himself up on one elbow. “No I don’t,” he gave her a mischievous smile. “And according to Henry, I already found them.”

Mary Margaret’s eyes twinkled with mischief, as she made an act of studying him carefully. “You do have my chin. And my hair.”

“And your undying optimism. Oh no, wait!”

They both laughed for a moment or two. “Yeah, maybe not that.”

Killian sighed and forced himself to leave the comfortable bed and the warmth of the loft. “I’m going to go see Henry.” He gave Mary Margaret a final smile. “I’ll see you later?”

“Don’t stay out too late!” She called after him in a motherly tone.

/-/

Killian and Henry sat on the bench, drinking hot chocolate and talking about Ava and Nicholas, when the sound of an approaching motorcycle made them both tilt their heads in confusion.

“I don’t recall anyone having a motorcycle in town… Henry?”

Henry shook his head in confirmation of his thoughts. “This is weird. No strangers come into town.”

As the bike came closer, Killian’s blood ran cold. He’d seen that motorcycle before, and worse - he thought he knew the man who sat astride it, his face hidden behind that helmet. His heart stopped and his worst suspicions were confirmed the moment the bike slowed to a stop in front of them.

“That is no stranger, lad,” Killian said as he stood up from the bench and pushed Henry behind him.

As he feared, as the man lifted the helmet off he found the familiar face of a brown haired man with blue eyes staring at him.

“Killian,” the man started but Killian didn’t let him finish, taking two steps and crossing his arms over his chest.

“What in the blazes are you doing here, August?”


	10. X

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter falls on the short side and it might give the feeling of a filler, but it's more like a transitional one. There was a huge time jump in the season that the show never addressed, so I'm trying to make up for it the best I can :) (think of it as the end of 1A before 1B begins-)

_“What in the blazes are you doing here, August?”_

“Killian Jones… of all the places in the world we could have run into each other…” August trailed off, and it was as if he wasn’t even shocked to find Killian there. It made Killian’s skin crawl and all his senses went on full mode alert. A big part of him wanted to tower over August and unleash the feelings he’d been harboring over a decade, allowing himself to finally let out his frustrations about the events that led him to be separated from Emma.

But right now, with Henry standing beside him, was not the time. He was not the same man he’d been a decade ago. He was not even the same man he’d been a few months ago. Revenge was no longer a priority in his life. His ten year old son was.

“You know what August? Save it for another night. Now is not the time.”

“Killian wait!”

Killian didn’t even stay to listen to August explanations, tugging his son by his sleeve, his only concern at that moment keeping Henry away from the man. He’d have time to track him down later and demand what the bloody hell he was doing in town.

He was still mulling over his August problem at breakfast the next morning, when Mary Margaret barged into the kitchen, half shrugging on her winter coat whilst rushing to pull on her boots, her toothbrush still dangling between her teeth.

“I can’t believe I overslept!” she said after she’d washed her mouth out, and discarded the toothbrush on the sink.

Her entire demeanor was so unlike her that Killian hesitated to ask.  “It’s only seven ten. You have time to get to school. Mary Margaret, is everything okay?”

“Oh yes,” she said as she headed for the door, but she seemed anything but okay. “I just have to be at school at seven fifteen. Science fair. I’m helping some kids with their project before school.”

“Five minutes won’t make a difference, lass,” he tried to assure her.  

“We’re making a volcano,” she retorted halfway outside the door, leaving Killian with that tingly sensation that he’d been lied to.

Never one to just let things alone, he finished his breakfast quickly and rinsed the bowl, grabbed his keys and stepped out to trace Mary Margaret’s steps. It didn't take him long to track her down. To Granny’s, of all places. Killian squeezed into the diner through the back door, arriving just in time to see her exchange a few words with David before the man left with two coffees, handing one to the wife that was waiting for him out in the car.

Mary Margaret’s look of longing as the station wagon disappeared from view nearly broke his heart, and he wanted to punch himself for not seeing the signs sooner.

He took a few tentative steps towards the table where she sat, looking dejected. “This is making a volcano?”

Mary Margaret’s expression quickly turned from shock to guilt. “I was-”

“I get it,” he sighed as he took a seat opposite her.

“He comes here every morning at seven fifteen a.m. to get coffee,” Mary Margaret deadpanned, her hands interlaced with each other as she rest them on the table.

“For him and his wife.” He hated to be the one to point that out, but he needed her to understand that this was not going to end well for her.

She shook her head as if he were stating the obvious - which in a way he was - and she didn’t need the lecture. “I know, I know, I know. I just like to…come here to see him.”

That was the understatement of the morning. “So you’re stalking him?” He couldn't help himself, and if he didn’t feel so guilty for putting her through this in the first place, he might have found her shocked expression endearing.

“No, not really…” she tried to justify herself. “Maybe a little bit. I mean, it’s not like I’m following him. I just know that he spends his mornings with Kathryn, gets coffee, then drives to the animal shelter to start work at seven thirty and then he’s home around five.”

Well, she was thorough, Killian could give her that. “And that would be all?” he prodded.

Mary Margaret sighed in defeat. “Thursdays they pick up Chinese for dinner.”

“One thing is certain, you’d be great in bailbonds.” Maybe he could convince her to ditch this town and her job and come work with him in Boston if things went south in here. She’d make a great honeytrap, he was sure of it. Those huge, innocent eyes of hers?  What man wouldn’t fall under her spell?

She sagged against the table with a defeated sigh. “I can’t get him out of my head.”

He could relate. How many countless hours had he spent retracing all of his and Emma’s old hideouts and hangouts in the hopes he might run into her again? “I know, trust me, I know.” But even he had eventually put a stop to that. “Maybe the first step is not showing up here tomorrow. You can’t do this to yourself. You deserve better.”

She banged her forehead softly against the table. “Love’s the worst. I wish there was a magic cure.”

Sometimes, he’d wished for that too. Only it would probably meant taking the good with the bad, and he wouldn’t have traded one single minute of his time with Emma for his peace of mind.

/-/

The storm warning came out over the radio a little after he left the diner, and Killian entertained himself with gathering all the supplies he needed before it hit, following the procedures he’d read time and again over the past few weeks. The wind had picked up, so he donned one of the jackets the department kept at the station. He was in the process of loading up the patrol car with essential supplies when he noticed Regina approaching him with a stern face.

“If you’re here to blame me for the storm, I think you’re taking things a bit far now,” he bit out as he placed the portable battery and cables down on the backseat.

Regina ignored his quip. “I need you to look into something, Sheriff. Someone’s in town – someone new.”

“That would be one August Booth.” Killian felt a momentary stab of satisfaction at Regina’s dumbfounded expression. “Dark haired fellow on a motorcycle?”

She nodded, her eyes narrowing suspiciously “Do you know him?”

“Trust me, you want to stay far away from that man, Madam Mayor,” he advised, closing the car trunk with a definitive thunk. “And keep Henry away from him, as well.”

“That seems to be the problem, _Sheriff_. He was in front of my house. Taking a particular interest in the one thing we both care about.”

_Henry. Bloody hell._

His anguish must have been written all over his face because Regina gave him a pointed look. “Where do you know this man from? And why is he here?”

“I know him from back in the day, before I went to jail,” he admitted. He wasn’t sure Regina wouldn’t use that against him, but he couldn’t take the chance of Henry getting hurt because he wasn’t completely forthcoming with his mother.

“Is he following you?” He could hear the accusations loud and clear.

“I haven’t seen him in a decade.” He ran his hand through his hair. “I don’t know why he’s here, but I will talk to him and find out.”

He took two steps towards her. “And he won’t get near Henry again. I’ll see to it.”

“You’d better, Sheriff. Because he seemed oddly familiar with my son.”

“Maybe was one of the thousands you cursed,” he quipped as he turned away from her.

/-/

The storm was in full swing with driving rain, thunder and gale force winds by the time Killian found August, sitting at a booth at Granny’s. Killian shook the rain from his hair and cracked his neck to one side to the other before he made his way towards August, sitting opposite him without ceremony.

“And now we talk, _mate_.” His tone was almost ruthless, but the idea of August nearby Henry was giving Killian goosebumps. He wasn’t sure of the extent of August’s involvement in the events that led to his little stint in jail, but August and Neal had been part of the same group back in the day. Whether or not August was in with Neal to frame him for the watches, it wasn’t the time to delve into it.  He wasn’t going to open this chapter of his life back in front of all Storybrooke to see - and for Regina to hear. But even if August hadn’t been involved, he was shady enough for Killian to want him far, far away from his son.

August seemed to wait for him to say something else, so Killian cleared his throat, his hand tracing a pattern on the surface of the table. “I’ve gotten complaints of your suspicious behavior.”

“You’ve gotten complaints.” August had raised an eyebrow, as if he didn’t quite give Killian’s words credence.

He enjoyed the way August’s eyes widened as he placed his badge on the table, tapping it with the tip of his finger. “Sheriff Jones, at this town’s service.”

“Would you look at that” August picked up the badge and examined it carefully before placing it back on the table. “You’ve come a long way since the last time I saw you, Killian.”

When Killian didn’t reply, August sighed. “Suspicious behavior? I’m sitting here, out in the open, drinking coffee.”

 Killian cocked an eyebrow at him, not letting August follow with the nice-boy act. “You were talking to Henry.”

“The little kid who came up to me asking me questions? Is that unusual for him? Being curious and precocious?”

If he weren’t Sheriff and risking a complaint over police brutality, he’d be punching the bloody ponce right now. “What were you doing outside his house?” He tried to keep his tone calm and collected, with only a hint of a warning in it.

August shrugged. “My bike broke down. It happens. Is it illegal in this town to talk to strangers?”

“It’s dangerous for people to talk to the likes of you.” Killian’s eyes came to rest on the old wooden box August still carried. “What’s in the box?”

August’s eye twinkled with smugness. “All this time, and you still want to know what’s inside it, don’t you?”

“I can get a search warrant,” Killian said, in a way that let August know he wasn’t entirely kidding.

“On what basis?” August asked casually, leaning back in the booth. “Has it eaten you alive all these years, Killian? Wanting to know my secrets?”

He didn’t have time for this. A storm was unfolding, Mary Margaret hadn’t returned his texts and he needed to ensure everyone was safe. Killian stood up, glancing at the other man with a hint of condescension. “That was interesting a decade ago, mate, but I’m over your bloody nonsense now.”

“Well, you can promise me you’ll come with me one day, and I can show you…”

_Emma had been right all along in hating the bastard and his theatrics._

“I’m not eighteen anymore, August. I don’t fall for that,” Killian warned, pointing a finger at him. “And stop talking to my son.”

August looked at him, his mouth forming a shocked ‘O’. “Henry? He’s your son? Yours and Emma’s?”

That act might have fooled any other, but not him. He could spot a lie a mile away and he didn’t buy it. “I’m done here.”

He took a few steps away, only to the stopped by August’s words. “Killian, wait. I’ll show you… as a token of goodwill.”

Killian turned around and waited, resisting the urge to roll his eyes, as August placed the box on the table and made a show of opening it.  And then August opened the lid and Killian finally learned August’s long-held secret. In the box sat an old typewriter, nothing more. He looked from it, back to its owner.

August shrugged. “I’m a writer, _mate_.”

Killian simply turned around without another word. He really hated the bloody fool.

/-/

The storm came and went, stretching into the night but leaving a bright morning as a gift. Killian sat down with his breakfast the next morning, quick to notice the way Mary Margaret fidgeted as she looked at the clock.

He could understand her agitation. It had been hard for him to let Emma go all those years ago. He still wasn’t sure he’d completely let go of her - alright, that was a lie, he knew he hadn’t - but he’d stopped looking for her frantically, only to be disheartened at every dead end. He’d stopped his constant lurking at all the spots they used to hang out together - and a few of hers she’d told him about - in hopes that she might materialize out of thin air. It took him years, but he’d stop turning around after each blonde that passed him on the street, hoping it was her. He’d finally given up - or simply convinced himself he’d given up - and buried her memory deep into his heart. What hurt the most was not the memories of what they had, but the aching pain of the memories they could have built together and were ripped away from him.

That was the worst kind of loss. The loss of the dreams your mind had conjured and life decided you couldn’t get. The loss of hope.

His hand reached for Mary Margaret’s, and her eyes focused on him. He gave her a soft smile and a light squeeze of her hand.

“It’ll be okay, darling.”

He wasn’t sure if it would be, but he was damn sure he’d try for it to be.

/-/

It turned out the storm had damaged Henry’s castle beyond repair and the bulldozing of the area had taken the hidden storybook along with the debris, Henry’s frantic search of the spot turning back nothing.

It was in these most dreary of conditions that the holiday season crept upon them and Killian did his best to be there for Mary Margaret as much as he could. And if he was putting on a suspicious amount of extra cheer while they were at it, in an attempt to distract himself from the things he was missing this holiday season, neither he nor she mentioned it.

His attempts to have Regina let him spend at least part of Christmas’ Eve or Day with Henry had gone awry from the first moment he had even dared to broach the subject. She’d snuffed out all his hopes with a condescending smile and a stark reminder that he had no rights over Henry, no matter how much he tried to weasel his way into his life and the town. He was no one, and he’d never be more than that.

The words had cut deep into him, making yet another dent into this heart, threatening to bring him down in a way like little else had in last decade. It was the first Christmas he’d dared to hope for something more than loneliness and a bottle of rum. And once again, he’d been reminded that hope was for other people. Happy family endings were not on the cards for him.

Nevertheless, he did his best to find what he thought would be the perfect gift for Henry. It had required a trip to the nearest town - as he didn’t find any decent bookstores in Storybrooke and he refused to go into Gold’s shop - but he finally got his hands on another fairytales and adventures book that he thought Henry might enjoy and perhaps it might help him ease the pain of losing his old one. He considered getting Mary Margaret a few novels, but chose to purchase a new cookbook for her, not wanting to bring her any heartache over love stories that might remind her of what she couldn’t have.

And thus, it was the day before Christmas when Killian snuck into a booth in Granny’s in time to share a hot chocolate and exchange gifts with his son. His eyes filled with tears at Henry’s handcrafted holiday card, and the sight of the black leather gloves and woollen beanie the lad had gifted him. He leaned in, holding his son in his arms as he let the words leave his mouth. _Merry Christmas, Henry._

Mary Margaret’s knitted black scarf was the perfect addition to his rapidly expanding winter wardrobe and they both toasted to rum-spiked eggnog and shared a Christmas’ meal together before he headed to the Sheriff’s station to be on call.

New Year’s Eve was a different ordeal. Mary Margaret hinted about a friend’s gathering at Granny’s, but Killian was simply not in the mood to celebrate. Not that night. So he met her eyes - eyes that were able to read him with uncanny accuracy by now - and thanked her for the thoughts, wishing her a new year before she left the loft.

Shortly before midnight, the night found him at the docks, his new winter attire keeping him warm as he sipped rum from his father’s old flask. Another year without finding Emma. Another year spent alone, chasing the memory of her in each lonely night and trying to forget about her - even if just for a few hours - in each one night stand. Another year gone and his heart still beating for her.

He heard the first strike of the clock tolling midnight and stood up, heading for the rail. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

_Happy New Year, Swan. This was the year our son found me. I wish you could see him, Emma, and see how wonderful he is. Wherever you are, know that I miss you, my love._

He took a final gulp of the rum before pouring the rest of the liquor out into the sea, hoping the toast would reach her, wherever she was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not going to lie, the ending of this chapter ranks amongst some of my favorite things I've written.


	11. XI

The next few weeks went by in a blur of keeping track of August, all the while avoiding Sidney’s attempts to lure him to be part of a supposed exposé on Regina Mills alleged misuse of town funds. Killian listened to Sidney’s plans for his so-called investigation but decided to pull out in the end. He didn’t buy it. His lie-detector was buzzing around at every step and it made him edgy. Furthermore, he knew men like Sidney. The would never have the backbone to go after powerful people like Regina, not when it mattered. So he stepped aside and let the man do whatever he wanted to do.

Nevertheless, he hadn’t walked away unscathed in the end. Regina had used any excuse she could find to forbid him to see Henry again, and even his short meeting with Sidney seemed grounds enough in her eyes.  So as much as Killian wanted to go against her, he knew his best chance was to lay low and weather the storm. It was a small town after all, he would have a few chances to run into the lad.

His resilience was soon wavering though, as he found himself missing the lad more than the thought he would. For years Killian Jones had lived his life alone, on his own, looking out for himself and no one else. There was no room for friends or family, not when he knew he was bound to lose them in the end. But now, he’d found himself developing roots in this place, courtesy of both the ten-year-old he’d found himself missing terribly, and the young elementary teacher that was currently sitting at Granny’s casting glances at a nearby booth.

It didn’t take Killian any of his keen detective skills to figure out who was sitting at the booth. He knew that there was something simmering there, even if Mary Margaret had promised that she’d try to stay away from David. But Killian had seen the lingering looks, the late night meetings as he’d patrol the streets at night, something so fleeting that he didn’t feel like confronting Mary Margaret about it. She’d confide in him at her own time, if she wished to do so. He took one last look at the pair, part of him resenting David for putting his friend in such position instead of just bloody making a decision, before he sighed to himself and masked his features into one of nonchalance.

“Hey David,” he greeted as he took a seat in front of Mary Margaret and witnessed how both of them startled a little before they seemed to compose themselves.

“Hey Killian,” David replied but Killian had already lost interest in the man he wasn’t that keen on in the first place, and focused on stealing Mary Margaret’s food and giving her an inquisitive look.

“Henry’s fine.” She took a sip of her coffee.

“I didn’t ask anything,” Killian tried to defend himself but Mary Margaret gave him a pointed look over the rim of her mug. He finally caved. “Are you sure?”

“He’s his normal self.” Mary Margaret reached to squeeze his hand in solidarity. “Regina won’t keep you separated forever. When people are supposed to be together, they find a way.”

There was a breathy quality to her voice that made raised the goosebumps on Killian’s arms, and he wasn’t so self absorbed in missing his son that he didn’t notice to stealthy glance that Mary Margaret stole in David’s direction.

But he was sure it was probably hard for her to let go completely of her hope, and he could give her that fleeting moment of weakness as he continued to peruse over her words. “His normal self? Is he happy?”

“Yes!” A part of him was crushed at this and it seemed it showed in his face because Mary Margaret was soon correcting herself and speaking hurriedly. “No! He misses you – a lot. Trust me – I’m with him, like, six hours a day.”

“Six hours a day? Do you take newborns? I’d love six hours off...” Killian lifted his head as Mary Margaret turned, both noticing Ashley had walked in and was currently removing her baby backpack as Granny coddled her daughter.

“Ashley! I didn’t… I didn’t even recognize you,” Mary Margaret said as Ashley walked towards their table and pulled out a chair to sit.

“Baby on the outside?” she jested with a hint of tiredness in her voice.

It was more than that, Killian could tell. She seemed exhausted, but she looked a lot better than the lonely teen mom-to-be he’d met in the laundry room.

“How is it going?” he asked softly, part of him desperate to hear she and Sean were doing okay, to know they were making it, to feel for a moment that this could have been his and Emma’s life.

She seemed hesitant, as if she didn’t want to be completely honest. “It’s, uh… I mean, baby’s great, but we really haven’t had time to do the whole getting married thing. So, that’s been rough.” She averted her eyes and Killian almost reached for her hand to reassure her.  “And Sean’s been working double shifts at the cannery.”

Things were tough, he could only imagine. It hadn’t been easy for them and Killian knew it - he’d heard the rumours spread over town - but he also knew that Sean was working restlessly to provide for them and keep his word. He smiled sadly to himself as he wondered if that could have been him in another life.

“Well, he has to work…” Mary Margaret trailed off, trying to bring some comfort into Ashley.

“On Valentine’s Day? Yeah, he couldn't get out of it.”

“I’m sorry, Ashley. That is unfortunate,” Killian offered politely, mentally plotting if he could convince the cannery manager to give the lad the night off, maybe offer his services instead, when Ruby approached the table with a take-out coffee cup for Ashley.

“It doesn’t have to,” Ruby declared as she placed her hand on her hip and tilted her head. “Come out with me. Let’s have a girl’s night. We can all go. Mary Margaret-” She turned and gave him a quick once over. “Killian, you can come too.”

He almost choked at the words. “You just said it was girl’s night!”

“You can bring that badge and protect us.” She cocked a flirty eyebrow at him. “Or who knows, maybe you’ll get lucky enough to take Mary Margaret or me home…”

The vibration of his phone broke the moment and he wasn’t sure if he hadn’t heard a gasp coming from the near booth or not, but he didn’t have time to dwell into it as he checked his message.

“What is it?” Mary Margaret asked.

“It’s the station,” he supplied, not wanting to give more details in front of other people. “I have to go work.” He stood up and nodded his head. “Ladies, I hope you have a lovely evening.”

“You really should come with us!” Ruby yelled after him as he left the diner.

/-/

Killian arrived at the address he’d been given via phone. Someone, a neighbor, had noticed the front door left wide open and called in to report a possible theft. When he’d asked if they knew who the house belonged to, they seemed surprised he didn’t already know. It was Mr. Gold’s house.

Of course, because that was his luck in this godforsaken town.

The door was indeed wide open and Killian quickly removed his gun from the holster, getting into a defensive position before he stepped inside, trying to make as little sound as possible. It seemed it worked because he was already half into the room before Gold noticed him and turned around, his own gun pointing at Killian.

“Sheriff Jones,” he greeted with no little sneer as he withdrew the gun.

Killian did the same. “Your neighbor saw your front door open – they called it in.”

Gold made a motion with his cane as if to point to the house. “It appears I’ve been robbed.”

“It’s this a commonality with you, or are you going through a streak?” Killian couldn’t help the barb - nor did he want to. It seemed that Gold was also finding irony in the situation because he made a _tsk_ sound with his tongue against his cheek before he tilted his head.

“Yes, well, I’m a difficult man to love.” But he soon recovered himself. “You can go now. I know exactly what was taken and who did it. I’ve got it from here.”

_Wonderful, a powerful man that still thought he could take matters in his own hands._ Killian cocked an eyebrow at him. “Actually, you don’t. This was robbery - a public menace. You need to tell me what you know.”

Gold scoffed at him. “Do I?”

“Well, you could refuse, and I can arrest you for obstruction of justice.” Killian had the satisfaction of seeing Gold flinch just for a tiny, moment. “I have a feeling you don’t want to be behind bars.”

“Indeed, I do not.” He seemed to ponder his options for a second, more for show than anything else. “Alright, his name’s Moe French. He sells flowers. He recently defaulted on a loan. A short time ago, we had a little disagreement over collateral.”

“I’ll get him, check it out,” Killian said as he ensured his gun was secure in the holster and made a move to leave.

Gold spoke to his back. “I’m sure you will – assuming I don’t find him first… Let’s just say, bad things tend to happen to bad people.”

He turned around to find Gold smirking at him in a vengeful way. “Is that a threat?” He asked with as much authority he could muster in front of a man that didn’t seem to have any regard for any law whatsoever.

Gold waved his hand as if he were paraphrasing his words. “Just an observation. Good luck.”

/-/

Killian quickly identified Moe French - he was the owner of the only flower shop in town - and decided to pay a visit to the man’s house. He wasn’t at home, nor was he at his shop and his staff weren’t sure of his whereabouts. He got on the phone and quickly got a warrant to search the man’s house. It didn’t take him long to find the objects that Gold had reported stolen.

Back at the station, he had the satisfaction of pulling a sheet away and to reveal the items he’d recovered to a taciturn Mr. Gold. “You were right – your man Moe ripped you off. It was all still at his place.”

“And the man himself?” The venom in Gold’s voice made Killian’s blood run cold.

“I’m closing in on him.”

“Job well _half-done_ , then.”

Killian clenched his jaw. “It’s been less than a day and already I got your belongings back!”

“There’s something missing, you haven't recovered all of it.” He turned and started to leave and Killian felt a shiver run down his spine at the way Gold seemed to react to this entire ordeal.

“I’ll find him and get what is missing,” Killian promised.

“Not if I find him first.”

/-/

Killian kicked a few stones in frustration as he made his way into the docks, hoping the salty air would clear his mind a little. He couldn’t help the feeling that something was really amiss with the whole scenario with Gold. It wasn’t the first time - it was pretty much the way he’d felt about the man from the moment he’d met him - and sadly, he was certain it wouldn't be the last. He’d tried to find Moe French, canvassing the town and hitting all the regular spots his friends had pointed out, but nothing. He’d even dropped by The Rabbit Hole, only to find Ashley and Mary Margaret sighing over her drinks while Ruby flirted her way around the male population standing by the bar. They asked him to stay with them, but after downing a quick shot of rum - he was technically not on-duty but he was still doing sheriff work - he bowed his head and wished them a good night.

As Killian approached the cannery, he couldn’t get Ashley’s sad expression out of his head. Gods knew, he would have given anything to be with Emma today, even if for a brief moment between the grueling double shifts he’d take at work, in the hopes of providing a better life for them and their baby.

But that wasn’t his life, those weren’t the cards he’d been dealt. But it could still be the life of someone else. He could still make that dream happen, if not for him, for Sean and Ashley. 

It didn’t take long to reach the nightshift manager and using a little of both his natural charm and authority as Sheriff to convince him to give Sean a longer break, appealing to the man’s soft spot for young love and a delivering a none-too subtle reminder of Sean’s work ethic. He even offered to take over the shift himself to cover for Sean - he was confident that with some direction and putting his heart into it, he could make a decent job at the cannery - but the manager had waved off his hand dismissively.

“We know you have other things to take care of, Sheriff.”

Killian nodded, a small smile coming to his face as he witnessed Sean coming out of the cannery, his keys already in his hand.

“Thank you so much, Sheriff Jones.”

“Please, call me Killian.”

“Why did you do it?” Sean asked confused, because it wasn’t like Killian had been close to him and Ashley so far, other than passing them by on the street and making polite inquiries over Alexandra and whether or not they needed anything.

“You’re lucky enough to have the love of your life by your side, mate.” Killian tilted his head, pondering his words. “Both of them. I just - You should be with Ashley today, even if it’s just for the slightest moment, even if it’s just for a fleeting kiss… she should know that you love her.”

“I - I’ve been meaning to ask her to marry me,” Sean confessed, his hand reaching into his jacket pocket. “Even got her a ring and everything. It’s not much-”

Killian cut his self-deprecating words short with a hand on his shoulder. “She won’t care about the size of the ring, Sean. All she’d care about is that you want to spent the rest of your life with her…”

“I do.”

“Then go ask her.”

/-/

By the time Killian made it back to the Sheriff’s station, there was an anonymous tip on the voicemail, saying they’d seen Gold driving Moe French’s truck into the woods. The voice on the phone had been distorted a little, and Killian couldn't assess with certainty who it was - but if he was a betting man he’d bank on Sidney. Since he had nothing better to do, and he wasn’t keen on going back to his lonely bed and his painful memories, he decided it couldn’t hurt to take the patrol car out for a short drive in the woods. A quick text exchange with Mary Margaret yielded him a few directions to the road that lead up to the cabin where she’d sought out refuge during the storm. As he bundled himself up into a thick jacket, scarf and beanie, Killian figured that if something were to happen at the woods on a cold February night, it would probably be indoors.

The woods still looked like a tangled mess to him, every single tree and path indistinguishable from the next. He kept his phone by his side and constantly checked the navigation system until he finally caught a glimpse of a cabin. There was a dim light on and that seemed to confirmed Killian’s original hunch. He quickly got out of the car and approached the front door, his hand firm on the gun in its holster, just in case, careful not to make any sound.

The front door was slightly ajar and a few noises were barely discernible. It sounded like strikes and a few grunts of pain. He peeked through the door and the half-lit sight made his blood ran cold. Gold was lifting his cane and hitting something - someone - over and over, his voice filled with rage. _She’s gone. Forever. It’s your fault! It’s your fault!_

Killian quickly made his way into the cabin, quiet as he could and he grabbed Gold’s forearm before he could strike again. When the man turned to look at him, he seemed to be lost for a moment.

“Stop,” Killian commanded, his hand gripping Gold’s wrist tightly.

It was a blur of action after that. Killian moved Gold out of the room and instructed him not to move as he called in for an ambulance and freed the man in front of him - Moe French, he assumed. The paramedics were quick to arrive - clearly everyone could navigate the woods better than him - and they took care of the injuries, ensuring Killian that the man was a little beaten up, but nothing too serious.

Killian stood as they lift Moe into the ambulance before he turned to face Gold. “I heard you managed not to break anything he needs. You’re lucky, Mr. Gold.”

“You have a funny definition of lucky,” Gold spat, the contempt palpable in his voice.

Killian clenched his jaw, tilting his head to the side and willing himself not to lose his temper as he spoke. “You have a funny definition of justice. What did he really do to grant such a reaction? It seems a little much for a few trinkets...”

Gold averted his eyes and refused to talk. Killian pressed on, the words he heard as he entered the cabin still nagging him at the back of his mind. “You said something about a woman, how she was gone – what happened to her? If someone needs help maybe I can-”

He wasn’t able to finish the words before Gold cut him off, the same contempt as before, now mixed with annoyance and bottled up anger. “No. I’m sorry, Sheriff. I think you heard that wrong.”

 “You don’t want to cooperate?” He shouldn’t find it so strange that Gold wouldn’t want to talk. This was the man that had chosen to take matters in his own hands even after being instructed not to.

“We’re done here,” Gold announced in a way of someone that is used to have his words being followed as orders. In that moment, his demeanor reminded him eerily of Regina. It was too bad that he’d never been very good at listening to figures of authority. Didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy playing the part, himself, however.

“We’re not done here, mate. You’re under arrest for assault.”

/-/

It was only after he processed and locked up Gold for the night that Killian was able to go back to the loft. Mary Margaret had already turned in for the night, so he simply left a single yellow rose in a vase on the counter, hoping it would cheer her morning at least. He shredded his clothes the minute he walked into his room and collapsed onto his bed, a restless sleep coming to him almost instantly.

The next morning, he headed to the station a little later than usual, after a long hot shower and a breakfast of pancakes and coffee that Mary Margaret had left warm for him before heading to school, a small _Happy Valentine’s to you too!_ note right next to it.

He sat at his desk while Gold sat on the cot at the cell, and Killian knew he should not be doing this, but he couldn’t help goading the man a little.

“You know, Gold,” he started with a smug smirk. “I still owe you that favor. Maybe a good lunch might do the trick?” He tilted his head and cocked an eyebrow at the man, indicating his own takeout container from Granny’s.

Gold was clearly not impressed, being able to read Killian’s bluff for what it was. “I don’t need a reminder that you owe me a favor. And when the day comes that I make my request, it’ll be for more than a greasy treat from the local diner that pays rent to me.”

Killian’s retort died on his lips as Regina entered the station, followed by Henry.

“Sheriff Jones,” she announced in her regal tone, her hands resting on Henry’s shoulders. “I’m letting you have thirty minutes with Henry. Take him out – buy him ice cream.”

Killian stood up and walked towards her. As if he were such a fool. “You want me to leave you alone with a prisoner?”

Regina wasn’t even looking at him anymore, her eyes fixated on Gold. “Twenty-nine and a half minutes.”

Henry looked at him, his smile eager. “Hi, Killian.”

Killian’s heart tug in his chest at the idea of spending such precious minutes with his son, but he knew he shouldn’t. His eyes darted to Gold and the man held his stare for a moment. “Bring me back a cone?” Gold asked before he turned his eyes to Regina, his stare becoming cold and collected in an instant.

Yes, Killian knew he shouldn’t but at this moment, he couldn’t give a single care to the power play that was going to take place at the Sheriff’s station. Besides, Gold was incarcerated. What could she really do? He quickly grabbed his jacket.

“Come on, let’s go.”

He could worry about that after he spent twenty-eight minutes with his son.


	12. XII

Killian continued to notice both Mary Margaret’s conflicted face while they were hanging around the loft, and the not-so-subtle attempts at sneaking out of the house unnoticed at odd times. One more time, he considered whether or not he should try to approach the subject in any way, but he decided against it. Even if he felt the need to protect her from everything and everyone, Mary Margaret was ostensibly an adult and responsible for her own decisions. She’d confide in him when she was ready.

He was entertaining these thoughts as he made his way towards Granny’s, Mary Margaret’s request to meet him there for a snack leading Killian believe that perhaps the time had finally come for her to confide in him. But the sight of the man in front of him, leaving Granny’s, made Killian’s jaw clench in exasperation.

“I’ve been meaning to run into you.”

“August,” Killian spat, not an ounce of politeness towards the man. “I thought you’d be out of here by now… this town ain’t that interesting, mate.”

“Oh, but it is, Killian. The possibilities…” August trailed off with that flair of intrigue he clearly thought made him seem cool and interesting. Killian rolled his eyes, and started to move past him.

“Killian, wait!” There was a sense of urgency in the other man’s voice, as if he was trying very hard to contain it, but failed. “Come on, man, one drink, give me ten minutes to tell my story. That’s all I ask.”

Killian turned around, ready to refute him, but there was something in his eyes that Killian hadn’t seen before. He knew he shouldn’t - Emma would certainly beat him to a pulp if she knew he was humoring August again - but that part of Killian that was still trying to make sense of what was going on in this town was begging him to listen to whatever contrivance August had come up with. It surely couldn’t be more convoluted than Henry’s tale and even if, Killian had enough authority in town to keep August on a short leash.

_And he wasn’t afraid to misuse it if necessary._

“Fine,” he conceded. “Meet me here after work.”

With that, he turned around and entered the diner, not even bothering to wait for Booth’s reaction.

Mary Margaret was already seated in one of the tables, drinking her coffee as her eyes peered over Killian’s shoulder, the sound of a motorcycle audible on the background.

“Who was that?” she asked in an awed tone that made Killian’s skin crawl.

“Listen to me,” he started as he took a seat and pointed a finger at her. “You’ll stay away from him. I mean it.” Gods knew, he didn’t think much of David - or almost nothing to be honest - but even David was a better option than _August_. Killian would take a confused albeit married man over _good-for-nothing-I-live-for-mysterious-quips_ August as a suitable option for Mary Margaret any day.

None of them were suitable, though… and he was first going to try for her to see that.

“Wow, that is a very passionate answer about a stranger in town.” She took another sip from her tea as she gave him that look that he’d come to dread. That look that had him confessing all his misdeeds and secrets with a rueful tone. The look that made him almost believe Henry’s tale because it pretty much made him feel like he was being interrogated by his mother. The same look Isobel used to give him.

He fidgeted with the surface of the table. “I’ve met him before… in my younger days.” His voice was low as he averted his gaze, ashamed to admit to her the past he wasn’t proud of. But when he finally got the courage to meet her gaze, he found nothing but understanding in her eyes. “I don’t trust him. He’s up to something, I know it. I just need to figure out what.”

She put her hand over his reassuringly. “And you will. I have faith in you.”

There was a lump in his throat at her unwavering belief in people, but he quickly pulled himself together and shook his head. “Let’s not get sidetracked, you called me here to talk about you.”

That seemed to put Mary Margaret in a nervous mode and Killian’s heart skipped a beat as he feared the obvious confession about her and David would happen. “Yeah, but talking about you is easier right now.”

It was Killian’s turn to squeeze her hand. “You can tell me, lass. What is it?”

She lowered her head in secrecy and he mimicked her motion. “Remember when you told me to stay away from David and I agreed?” Killian nodded. “I didn’t.”

_And the cat was out of the bag._

“I know,” he whispered in a conspiratorial smile and had the satisfaction of looking at her shocking face.

“How?”

He sighed. “Mary Margaret, you’re not very sneaky, you know? I’ve made a living out of reading people’s routines and movements. Covering your tracks is not exactly your strong suit.”

She looked almost offended. “I’ve been discre- discreet.” She swapped the yelp in her voice for a milder tone.

Killian cocked an eyebrow at her, leaning back in his seat. “Two teacups in the sink, new perfume, late nights, plunging necklines. It wasn’t hard to connect the dots. Plus, I’m Sheriff, I patrol these streets a lot late at night. You guys weren’t that subtle in hiding either.”

“Plunging necklines!?”

Killian shook his head, marvelling that _that_ was the thing she was focusing on. “You do seem to be leaving a few more buttons undone these days, milady. At first, I thought it was my influence, but clearly-”

Mary Margaret cut him off, her hands quickly closing her sweater whilst he chuckled at her horrified expression. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“It’s not something I like to discuss with people, _especially my mother._ ” He witnessed the hint of a smile on her face. “Besides, I figured you’d come to me when you were ready to talk about it.”

“He’s telling Kathryn,” she confided, with such hope in her voice that Killian wished it were true. She certainly believed in it, and Killian wanted to believe too, for her, but experience had taught him not to hope.

“Everything?” He tried to make his tone as neutral as possible, hoping this was the one chance where she couldn’t read him like an open book.

“Everything,” she confirmed with a smile.

_Well, maybe there would be hope after the storm passes._

/-/

Killian paced at the entrance of Granny’s, checking his watch. August was late, as usual. The man surely loved making an entrance and Killian found himself dreading the moment of weakness that had led him to agree to the man’s proposition. His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a motorcycle and he turned around to see August pulling over.

“Hop on!”

_As if he’d be such a fool twice._

“No way, mate, I'll follow you on my car but I am not getting anywhere with you without my own means of escape.” He tried to keep the frustration out of his voice, but even he knew he was doing a poor attempt at that.

August chuckled and it infuriated Killian even more. “Have a little trust, Killian.”

He had taken two long strides and was in August’s face in an instant, his voice low and ruthless as he didn’t have any interest in having Ruby and Granny listening to his words. They were both there, lurking around, their interest clearly caught by August’s mysterious flair.

“With you?” He clenched his jaw as August’s eyes widened. “ _Never_. Do you forget what happened the last time I trusted one of your plans? I ended up in jail, mate. For eleven months. I missed the chance to raise my son. _I lost Emma._ ”

Something that looked very much like regret passed through August’s eyes. “Look, Killian, I had nothing-”

He cut off the other man’s words, as he could already sense the lie unfolding from his tongue. “I don’t care if you knew you were setting me up to take the fall, or if Cassidy didn’t fill you in until after. All that matters to me is that you understand this: I don’t trust you. _I’ll never trust you._ I’m only following you to see what the hell you’re up to and if I find one thing - _one thing_ \- that I don’t like, I’ll bloody chase you out of this town myself.”

August swallowed slowly, his eyes looking at Killian as if he were seeing him for the first time in a long time. Killian took a step back from the man and motioned towards his car. “Where am I going?”

“To the Wishing Well. Follow me.”

Killian got into the car, still ruminating his anger. A bloody wishing well. One of these days he was going to forget he was sheriff and he was going to punch August in the face.

It was a short drive out of town and into the woods, where the wishing well was. August was leaning by the well by the time Killian made it out of the car, legs crossed at his ankles and an elbow over the edge.

“They say there’s something special about this well. There’s even a legend. They say that the water from the well is fed by an underground lake, and that lake has magical properties.”

Killian chuckled. “Magic? You sound like Henry.”

August tilted his head to the side. “Smart kid.” Killian wasn’t going to contest that, but he was also not interested in giving August any information about his son. August waited for a second, and then simply proceeded to pull the rope and bring up the old wooden pail.  “So, this legend. It says that if you drink the water from the well, something lost will be returned to you.” His voice sounded like he was telling the story to a captivated audience and Killian wanted to roll his eyes.

“How do you know all this? Did you read the plaque or something?”

Clearly August expected Killian to be impressed and play the intrigued card, but Killian had seen enough of that a decade ago. “Do you actually believe in what you say? In magic?”

“I’m a writer. I have to have an open mind.”

_You’re an idiot._ Killian’s raised eyebrow made his words unnecessary.

August pulled two camp mugs out of his backpack and filled them with water from the pail. “Water is a very powerful thing. Cultures as old as time have worshipped it. It flows throughout all lands, connecting the entire world. If anything had mystical properties – if anything had magic – well, I’d say it’d be water.”

“There’s little proof for that… it’s all just faith, mate.”

“If you need evidence for everything, Killian, you’re going to find yourself stuck in one place for a long time.”

_I already did._

“Maybe. Or, maybe I’ll stop waiting for the impossible to happen and accept reality.” He took the cup August handed him.

“There’s one thing I can tell you for sure that requires no leap of faith, and I know you’ll agree with me.”

“That you’re an idiot too full of yourself still?”

August raised his cup to Killian’s. “It’s good water.”  


/-/

He drove back into town and parked outside the back entrance of Granny’s, taking a short walk towards the station to check to see if there were any messages. After transferring the calls to his cellphone, he grabbed his keys and headed back to his car. The wind had picked up and there were several dried leaves covering the back windshield of the Bug. He reached over to brush them off, fighting back the chill from the wind, when he noticed the box lying on the street, by his back tire. Killian bent to examine it, his heart beating frantically in his chest at the possibilities. It was a red tin box, and it fit the description Henry had given him about the one where he’d placed his beloved book before burying it underneath the castle. It didn’t have a lock, so Killian simply opened the lid, breathing out a sigh of relief when he found the book intact inside the box.

At least one bit of good news for the day.

He couldn’t wait to show Henry. He’d seen his son’s spirits flag with each passing day where the book was still missing, and the mere thought of seeing the lad’s smile again had Killian back in the driver’s seat and rushing in the direction of Storybrooke Elementary, eager to make it before the final bell.

Henry was thrilled to see him, but at the same time, he was clearly distracted, his gaze wandering over Killian’s shoulder, his attention on the street behind him.

“I’ll be quick, lad. I just have something I’d like to give you.” He pulled the book from the bag where he had it and gave it to Henry. His smile made everything seem brighter in the world.

“You found it! Where’d you get it?” His little fingers traced the pages with reverence.

“I found it in a gutter near my car. It must have fallen off the dump truck on the way to the junkyard and got tossed around in the rain.” Killian shrugged. “Somehow, it made its way back to me.”

“Wow. That’s crazy.” There was something in Henry’s voice, as if he’d wanted to find a less logical, more _magical_ explanation to it. For a moment Killian wanted to believe with him that it had been like that, that a magical being was taking care of his son and ensuring his wellbeing.

_But he didn’t believe in fairytales. Not anymore._

“What other explanation could there be?” He hated to be the one bursting Henry’s little bubble of hope, but he couldn’t lie to him. He reached to clasp his shoulder. “Whatever happened, it came back to me.”

“Maybe our luck is changing. _Operation Cobra_ is back on. It’s a sign. Things are going to be better.”

Killian thought of Mary Margaret getting her happy ending and of the happiness he had when he was able to steal a fleeting moment or two with Henry.  “I hope you’re right, lad. And now I have to go before your mother gets here.”  


/-/

The first sign that things might not have gone the way they were supposed to was the red, half-erased _Tramp_ sign spray-painted on the side of Mary Margaret’s car. Killian clenched his jaw and his hand fisted at his side. He was going to find whoever did it and ensure they spent at least a few hours between bars, with or without Mary Margaret filing a complaint.

But that was a task for another moment. Now he needed to do something else. He took a deep breath before he unlocked the door to the loft and entered it silently, hanging his jacket on the rack by the door, and discarding his gloves and beanie on the sidetable.

The loft was almost dark, only the lamp sitting by Mary Margaret’s bedside table was lit. There wasn’t anything out of place, and yet the entire room felt as if it had lost a little of the warmth it always carried.

Mary Margaret herself was lying on her bed, curled to the side as she hugged a pillow. Killian swallowed, sadness overtaking him as he watched her back shake softly with what he could only imagine were sobs. 

“Do you feel like talking about it?” He asked with what he hoped was a warm voice.

“Nope,” came the sobbed reply.

“Do you want to be alone?”

“Nope.”

Sighing, he lay on his back on the bed, next to her but making sure he wasn’t offering any unwanted contact. It was a moment or two before she turned and curled into his side, her head on his shoulder, the tears soaking his shirt. His arm reached to pull her closer, and simply rested on her back.

“He didn’t tell her,” she whispered, her voice broken with pain. “He promised and then he didn’t… and now everyone-” Her voice got desperate, agitated, and Killian closed his arms around her, trying to bring some comfort.

“Aye, I know.” He let her grieve the worst type of grief, the one he could have wished to spare her.

After what seemed like a cursed lifetime or two, her tears subsided. “Does it ever stop?” She asked, her voice raw from her tears.

“What?”

“The heartache.”

_Right. Nothing seemed to get past Mary Margaret when it came to him._

He sighed, running the hand that wasn’t holding her in a tight embrace through his hair. “No. But you learn to breathe through it, and eventually, it fades a little.”

“And you move on?” It wasn’t exactly hope in her voice, but there was something that was almost begging him to give her something to hold onto. Something that would at least take her back to the bitter loneliness she had before she met David.

_But Killian Jones was done with the business of giving false hope. It never worked for the better in the end._

“I don’t know. I haven’t reached that part yet.”

She chuckled sadly against his shoulder. “What a terrible pair we make…”

“Well, like mother, like son it seems.” He propped himself on one elbow and tilted her chin so she could meet his eyes. “I’m sorry Mary Margaret. You deserve better than this.”

She shook her head. “I’m not so sure anymore.”

“I am.”

They remained silent for the rest of the evening, until she eventually fell asleep. Killian put a blanket over her and headed for the kitchen. He gulped two measures of rum before he headed to bed, not even considering he hadn’t eaten much since breakfast. He couldn’t help but beating himself over not being around when all this blew up. For being caught up in yet another of August’s stupid tales. Another thing to blame on the bloody ponce: he wasn’t there for Mary Margaret when she needed him.

Killian climbed stairs into his room and quickly changed into some flannel pajama pants and a long sleeve shirt, getting into his own bed, the faces of the two men that had ruined his day dancing in his head.

He wasn’t sure who he wanted to punch first. August, for wasting his time, or David, for breaking Mary Margaret’s heart.

David, probably. He had been anything but deserving of respect these days. Killian should have known better than to turn a blind eye to Mary Margaret’s escapades. Men like David never told the truth to their wives.

Men like David didn’t deserve someone like Mary Margaret. And Killian was going to make sure he knew it.

_Repeatedly._


	13. XIII

 

The gossip didn’t die down the next day. Killian knew it probably wouldn’t. It was a small town, and they would squeeze a scandal like this for everything it was worth, and then some. Which was why his heart went out to her when he saw her stepping into Granny’s during morning rush. Killian was sitting at a secluded table, simply enjoying his hot chocolate - musing over how much of the stuff he must have drunk since he’d first gotten into town - and browsing over the local news when Mary Margaret cleared her throat.

“I’m sorry to interrupt your morning, but I just wanted to remind everyone that a very special occasion is upon us – Miner’s Day.” She looked uncomfortable and fragile as she held a clipboard in one hand. “As always, the nuns of Storybrooke are hoping that everyone will get involved, and will help sell their exquisite candles. All we need are a few energetic volunteers. So, who wants to join me?”  
  
There were a few moments of silence before everyone resumed their activities. The rejection seemed to hit Mary Margaret like an actual wave, causing her to rock back on her heels as her body recoiled from the force of it. Killian was already pulling his wallet and leaving a few notes on the table when he noticed Leroy talking to her. He couldn’t exactly make out the words, but he didn’t need to. Mary Margaret’s face told him everything he needed to know and Killian made a mental note to perhaps use a little more of force the next time he was taking the man for his weekly ‘drunk and disorderly’. Maybe he could learn a thing or two about how to treat a lady.

Mary Margaret stormed out of the dinner and Killian followed her, shoving his black beanie down his head and closing his warmer leather jacket, his heart heavy at her predicament and despising David even more for putting her in this position.

He caught up with her right around the corner, and he had to take a few quick steps to warm himself against the cold wind. “Hey. Mind if I join you?” He fell into step next to her as he put on his leather gloves. “Care to explain what the hell is Miner’s Day, and why you’re beating yourself up over it?”

Mary Margaret sighed, holding the clipboard tightly. “It’s an annual holiday celebrating an old tradition. The nuns used to make candles and trade them with the miners for coal.”

“Coal? In Maine?” That didn’t make any sense, but Killian hadn’t stayed in school long enough to care that much about whether or not this was a real thing or not.  “I didn’t even know there was coal in this area.”

“I...Look, I don’t know.” Mary Margaret sounded sad and defeated. “It’s one of those old town legends. Now, they just use it as a fundraiser. It’s an amazing party – everyone loves it.”

Killian tilted his head, contemplating her words. “It doesn’t seem like everyone loves it.”

“It’s not Miner’s Day – it’s _me_.” Her words percolated deep within Killian. “Last week, I had ten volunteers. This week, they all dropped out.”

He sighed. He knew a thing or two about being cast out, singled out as the problematic individual no one should associate with. He hated seeing Mary Margaret in that role. “And you think this is about what happened with David.”

She cocked an eyebrow at him with resolve. “Oh, I know it is. A few of them told me as much.” Mary Margaret sighed, holding the clipboard for dear life and Killian had to fight the urge to go punch David right at that very moment. “I’ve never been a homewrecker before.”

“You’re _not_.” He said fervently and made Mary Margaret look at him. “It’s going to blow over, you know it is, the moment they find something else to gossip about. You might have made the mistake of putting your heart out there and trusting the wrong man, but you don’t have to do charity to try to win people’s hearts back. It’s not their bloody business.”

“I have to do something, and this is the best I can do. It’s not like I can go sleep with Dr. Whale again.”

“Well-” Killian started and Mary Margaret gave him a horrified look. “You could.”

“ _Killian._ ”

“I’m just saying.” He threw his arms up in defense. “If they will talk anyway, keep having fun.” At least the leer in his voice brought a tiny smile to her face.

“You know that’s not me. And he wasn’t that fun.” She admitted and Killian almost choked at her irreverence. “Love ruined my life.”

Killian was about to retort when a text message alerted him of a possible issue with a car down the road. “Well, duty calls.” He pocketed his phone and gave Mary Margaret’s arm a soft squeeze.  “Hang in there, Mary Margaret. It will get better and if there is anything I can do to help, anyone you want me to put in jail for you…”

She didn’t let him finish, reaching to pat his shoulder. “I know. Thank you.” She gave him a lopsided smile. “Now go work.”

/-/

From the moment Killian saw the abandoned car at the side of the road with one of the doors open, he knew it didn’t look good. The call had come in from the gym teacher from Henry’s school, who’d found it like that and had searched for the driver without luck before informing Killian.

Killian knew it looked worse the moment he ran the license plate and it gave back that it was registered to Kathryn Nolan. It was the last thing he, the town and Mary Margaret needed at the moment. He made a few stealthy calls -as much as it would be possible in this town - and corroborated that her status seemed to be MIA since the day before.

_Not good. Not good at all._

Killian put on some latex gloves and picked the Polaroid camera that was sitting in the patrol car and headed back to the abandoned vehicle, carefully searching the inside and taking the pertinent pictures. He was still inspecting under the front seats when he heard a car pulled behind him.

“Do you mind if I take a look too?” Sidney asked, pulling out his own camera.

“What for?” Killian asked, not wanting to shut the man down but also a little apprehensive of his presence there. Granted, between his phone calls and the car in plain sight, it would be a minor miracle if he could’ve kept this under wraps, but he’d been hoping for a little more than half a day.

“Just because I got fired from _The Mirror_ , doesn’t mean I can’t do a little freelance reporting. So, what have we got here?”

In this way, Killian could at least control the type of information that made it out there. He sighed as he continued to search the car. “Gym teacher found the car on the side of the road abandoned. Engine running, no one around. Registered to Kathryn Nolan. She’s MIA.”

It didn’t even take a heartbeat for Sidney to go exactly where Killian knew everyone would. “Kathryn Nolan, whose husband very publicly left her? I mean, the story writes itself. If I get a scoop like that, _The Mirror_ would have no choice but to take me back.”

_He should know better than to trust a reporter with information._

“Slow down, mate. You don’t work for Regina anymore.” Killian finished examining the inside of the car and quickly took two steps away, straightening himself. “Kathryn got accepted to law school in Boston. Maybe, after David dumped her, she decided to leave town. The car broke down, she hitched the rest of the way. I don’t blame her for wanting to leave town as soon as possible.”

The rest of his explanation died in his mouth the moment he popped open the trunk and a suitcase was sitting there. Killian turned and find Sidney giving him a definitive smile. “And, uh, would you leave your clothes in the car?”

_No, he wouldn’t._ Killian liked this less and less with each tick of the clock.

“I’m going to have to pull Kathryn’s phone records and find out who she spoke to last.” He wasn’t even sure why he was still speaking to Sidney, other than the fact that, at this moment, he needed someone to talk to.

“You know, if you go through the Sheriff’s Department, it’ll take you days to get those.” Sidney scratched behind his ear before he continued. “I’ve got a contact over at the phone company, who used to help me out when I was at the newspaper. I can get those in a couple hours.”

Killian knew that he was one fact away in this case to be way over his head. Yes, he’d been a great bailbonds and he knew a thing or two about law enforcement. But he wasn’t Graham and he wasn’t a specialized detective. He had guts, good instincts and a sharp mind, but right now, he’d take any extra help he could get, even if that came in the form of a former Regina’s lackey.

“Call me the minute you get your hands on those records.”

The sound of a car coming made them both turned around and Killian witnessed David’s truck pulling down the road. It seemed news traveled faster than he originally thought in this town.

“Well, here’s David,” Sidney pointed out and Killian gave him a nod.

“Let me know about those records, I have to go break the news to him.”

“Do you really think he doesn’t know?” Sidney was skeptical and Killian could hardly blame him. If something had happened to Kathryn, the husband was always going to be the first suspect. But it was too soon to be jumping to conclusions.

“Well, I’ll be sure to find out.”

_Good thing he could spot a lie or two._ It might come in handy today.

/-/

He wanted David to lie, he really did. As bad as that might be for his investigation, Killian wasn’t above petty feelings and he was honest enough with himself to recognize he was looking for any excuse to lash out at the man. _Any excuse at all._ And if this hadn’t been as serious as the possible disappearance of a woman, he would have pushed the line a little further.

But this was serious business and right now, David was looking between him and the car dumbfounded and confused.

“She’s just gone?”

“You really don’t know anything about this?” He hadn’t meant to sound so harsh, but part of him couldn’t hide the loathing he felt for the man in front of him.

“I-I don’t… I don’t understand. What happened?”

“I’m trying to find out. What can you tell me? When was the last time you spoke to Kathryn?”

“Yesterday afternoon.”

He wanted to believe the man, but at the same time... “Mate, I know there have been lies and deceit in your, uhm, situation, and I’m really not judging you, but is that the truth?” Maybe that last bit was a bit of a stretch because a part of him _was_ judging the man. But that was the part that was Mary Margaret’s friend, and not the part that was Sheriff.

“Yes.” David’s voice was sound and secure and Killian couldn’t detect any deceit in it. “I haven’t spoken to her since we… I ended things. And I came home yesterday, and all her things were gone. I assumed she was going to Boston. That’s what she told me.” He swallowed and met Killian’s eyes head on. “Am I a suspect or something?”

Killian shook his head “No. I know when people are telling the truth, David, and you are.” He tried to give the other man a reassuring smile, as it was clear he seemed conflicted and preoccupied by this. “She hasn’t even been gone twenty-four hours. She’s not even technically missing. But, if she is, trust me – I will find her.”

_He’d make sure of it._

/-/

Killian spent the rest of his morning tracking down information on Kathryn Nolan’s law school and new apartment in Boston, only to confirm that she hadn’t arrived or been spotted at either of them. He made a few more calls to some of his usual contacts, trying to quickly put together a more extended search.

Nothing.

She wasn’t in Boston. He cursed, running a hand through his hair and hanging up the phone at the station with perhaps a little more force than necessary. Checking his watch, he wondered if Sidney had already gotten his hands on those phone records. He probably had, considering the man had nothing else to do but focus on this, the only story in town.

Well, maybe not the _only_ one. There was that wretched miner’s festival nonsense going on, but Killian would bet good money that a possible missing person case was a lot more enticing than a festival fair.

And apparently, he would lose his gold coins - if he had any, he thought with bitterness as he walked around the festival and found Sidney playing ring toss. He clenched his jaw and tilted his head in frustration.

“Really, mate? What in the blazes are you doing playing this nonsense?”

Sidney turned around, not even a slight hint of guilt on his features - and the truth was, he wasn’t employed by the city so he didn’t owe Killian anything. “What’s happening?”

“I just got off the phone with Kathryn’s school in Boston. Registration was this morning, and she never showed up.” Killian leaned his hand over the counter, his other hand on his hip as he pondered his words.

“You think something _did_ happen to her,” Sidney pressed, the journalist in him finally deciding to show up.

Killian grimaced. “It might look that way. I made a few other calls to my contacts in the city. They haven’t been able to find anything. They’ll continue to search, but in the meantime-”

His words were cut off when Mary Margaret and Leroy rushed past them, stopping abruptly when she noticed him. “Killian! Help me out! What’s more sympathetic. Um, scarf or no scarf?”

Her mood swings were giving Killian whiplash, but to be honest, it was better to see her like this - focused on something - than the sobbing mess he’d found the night before. “Scarf, darling,” he offered with a warm smile.

“Come on! We’re on a schedule,” Leroy urged with his natural lack of charm and Mary Margaret nodded in agreement.

“Thank you. Got to go!”

Killian watched her and Leroy running off, probably to some endeavor involving those blasted candles if the boxes they were picking up where any hint. He wondered how she’d convinced the grumpy little man to help her in such short time. He was entertaining those thoughts when he noticed Sidney’s inquisitive stare.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” And with that, Sidney was back in full reporter mode. “You’re looking for a suspect. Someone with a motive. Pixie cut over there has got one a mile high.”

“She had nothing to do with anything.” Mary Margaret was not the type to commit such thing, and she had a good alibi considering he’d spent the night with her, comforting her sobs and whispering promises of a better tomorrow he didn’t quite believe in. But it was not something he was willing to disclose to the one person that could twist it and use it to get himself back into the newspaper. Last thing Mary Margaret needed was to people thinking she was playing the field with him and David at once.

“But she’s the one-”

He didn’t let Sidney finish. “ _Trust me_. I know her. Just get me those phone records.” He almost barked the order as he took a step away, deciding to head back to the station and call his Boston mates again.

He kept hoping that they’d confirm Kathryn had turned up in the city after all. But even Killian knew there were slim chances of that happening at this point.  


/-/

 

None of his contacts had been able to find Kathryn in Boston and they’d managed to canvass a lot of ground during the day. Killian sighed, sipping another cup of terrible coffee as he focused on the board in front of him. He’d placed the pictures from the accident and a few other pieces of information he was able to gather. He racked his brain trying to find something - anything - that would pull this case out of the direction it was clearly going. He didn’t want to deal with this.

_Bloody hell, he wasn’t sure he was capable of dealing with this._

Sidney entered the station in that moment, a manila envelope clutched in his hands. “Did you find something?” Killian asked as he took the envelope from him and pulled out the sheets.

“Kathryn’s phone records. Every call she made the day she crashed her car.” Sidney paused for effect and Killian felt the dread coming into him. “Including an eight-minute call between her and David within an hour of the accident.”

_That’s not possible._

“He said he didn’t speak to her that day.” David had sounded so convincing and Killian’s lie detector hadn’t given him any signs.

“Then he’s lying.”

Killian ran a hand through his hair, almost sighing in defeat. “I’m usually good at telling when someone is lying, and David-” He witnessed Sidney’s intention to speak and he raised in hand to stop him. “I know, I know, it’s on the paper.” He looked at the page again, where the information was sitting there in black and white. “Phone records don’t lie.”

“People do.” Sidney offered and while Killian wanted to believe otherwise, the other man was right. “And our friend David does it better than most.  You wouldn’t be the first person David fooled.”

Sadly, no. And he knew firsthand how convincing David’s lies could be. He wanted to beat himself up over this… he had wanted to believe David was telling the truth, he had wanted to see the good in him if only to spare Mary Margaret the heartache.

Once again, he found himself aching for Emma. If she’d been here, by his side, he wouldn’t have been so naive. She would have seen right through all this charade for what it was.

_Damn it, Swan. A decade later and I still need you like the first time you got me out of a bad spot._  


/-/

 

Later that day, he sat in his office, the phone records in front of him. The numbers seemed to dance on the paper from the amount of time he’d been staring at them. He couldn’t recall how many cups of coffee he’d drank, but he was probably past any healthy limit. His only break from staring at the records had been a quick call to the power company when he was informed there had been a problem with the electricity down at the Miner’s Day festival. They assured him they’d take care of it and he wasn’t needed, so Killian went back to look at those bloody records, pondering his options.

Which is how Regina found him, entering the station and leaning over across the threshold of his office.

“If this is about the blackout, I’ve got the guys from the power company down there working on it,” Killian offered, playing with the cap of his highlighter, trying to dismiss the woman as soon as possible.

“That’s not why I’m here.” That caught Killian’s attention. “It’s been twenty-four hours since my friend, Kathryn, went missing. Have you found anything?”

She seemed sincere for the most part, but as usual, there was this little something lurking in the background, something Killian couldn’t quite pinpoint, that had him hesitating when it came to Regina Mills telling the truth. But he was a Sheriff now, and as much as he trusted his instincts - despite his abject failure with David earlier - he needed to rely on more than just his gut.

“I found something. I just don’t know what it means.”

“Well, what is it?”

He could tell her… he knew he could inform the Mayor about the advances in the investigation. It is what a Sheriff would do in these cases and yet…

“At this point in the investigation, it’s best I don’t divulge that information.”

And just like that, Regina’s mask fell off, her face twisting in an almost evil way. “If you’re covering for someone, if you’re not doing your job, Sheriff Jones, I’ll find someone who will.”

Killian gave her a small smirk and a tilt of his head, acknowledging her words and watching her go, his mind trying to decide what the best way to execute the next step should be.

/-/ 

The town hall made for a lovely image as night fell, with only candlelight to illuminate the festivities. People gathered in groups, sharing their light and keeping warm in the cold night. Out the corner of his eye, Killian saw Mary Margaret making her rounds with extra candles. She looked peaceful, content. He wished he didn’t have to do this.

But he couldn’t postpone this any longer. He had a job to do.

His eyes quickly located David. He was standing by the side of the street, his own eyes following Mary Margaret’s figure in the near-darkness. Something about that gesture made Killian’s blood boil, witnessing the man that had lied to his friend and putting her in such terrible position still lingering nearby her, following her every move. But he pushed those feelings aside, to the corner of his mind, and focused on doing his job. He didn’t want anyone contesting his motives throughout this entire thing. Killian made his way towards David and cleared his throat to catch his attention.

David turned around, his face showing no signs of guilt or surprise. “Killian.”

“David, we need to talk.”

“Did you get a hold of Kathryn?” David asked and the sincerity in his voice threw Killian for a second time that day. David was either the consummate liar or he truly had nothing to do with it. He wished Emma were here, she probably could have guessed that one better than him. She seemed to have a scumbag-detector built in as much as he has a lie-detector. She never liked August, after all. Or Neal for that matter.  

Killian shook his head, partly to provide David with an answer and part to shake those thoughts out of his head. “I’m afraid not.” He trailed off, playing with the end of his black beanie as he tried to find the words.

“Then, what is it?”

Might as well get on with it.

“I need you to come to the Sheriff’s station with me and tell me everything.”

David looked like a deer caught in headlights, not really following Killian’s words. “I’m sorry. I thought I already did.”

Killian took one step closer to the man, fighting the urge to let his own opinions of David taint the moment. “So did I, mate. But it seems you and I need to have another chat.”

In his defense, David didn’t create a scene as he simply followed Killian to the patrol car, his head down as if he were defeated. But Killian could still feel the eyes of the crowd on them, their attentions drifting towards the flurry of movement as they made their way to the patrol car. He could hear the urgent whispers, the hushed accusations already spreading before they reached it. Killian held open the door and David climbed into the backseat.

The last thing Killian saw was Mary Margaret’s crestfallen face.


	14. XIV

##### Chapter XIV

The night had grown bitterly cold, even inside the Station. Killian left David sitting by his desk in his office and quickly boiled some water, pouring himself and the other man a cup of tea.

David seemed lost in his own thoughts when Killian handed him the mug. “Thank you,” he said, his eyes meeting Killian’s gaze dead on, like a man with nothing to hide. “I hope Kathryn’s somewhere warm, not out in this cold.”

Killian wanted to believe David’s good intentions were sincere. He wanted to believe the man in front of him had nothing to do with his wife’s disappearance. That he was genuinely concerned about her whereabouts. That he wasn’t simply putting on an act for Killian’s benefit. But he’d chased enough skips and scumbags in the last decade to know that evil came in all shapes and forms.

“Mate, I think you need to start thinking about your situation here. Your wife is missing. You’re allegedly in love with another woman.” Killian reached for the phone record sheet. “And then there’s this phone call you can’t seem to explain.”

“I know, I know,” David sighed, his eyes scanning the sheet of paper again. “I can’t explain why it says that.” He looked at Killian with a troubled expression. “I swear, I didn’t do anything to Kathryn.”

Killian studied him for a long moment, trying not to show his internal struggle. He had proof, in black and white, that the man had lied to him - at least about the phone call. And yet, his internal lie detector, the one thing he’d relied on his entire life - other than Emma’s keen instincts about pretty much everything - was screaming against it. David seemed sincere in his statement and so troubled about the entire situation that even despite everything he knew about human nature, he couldn’t bring himself to hold the man. He knew that in cases like this, he couldn’t make a false move and compromise the entire investigation.

“I’ve been around a lot of liars and they usually have better material,” Killian took a sip from his mug. He stood to open the door of his office. “Now go home.”

“I can go?” David asked warily, clearly confused by this.

“I don’t even know if there is a crime yet, mate.” Killian leaned on the door. “Go home and get some sleep.”

“Thank you.” David placed the mug back down on the desk and stood up to leave. He’d crossed the threshold before Killian spoke again. “David?” he called, waiting until the other man turned back to him. “Perhaps you should consider hiring a lawyer.”

David looked crestfallen as he nodded and left the station.

/-/

Killian chose to walk the few blocks home, letting the chill seep into his bones in the hopes it might numb his mind a little and put a stop to his raging thoughts. His peace of mind was short lived, however, as Mary Margaret appeared on the sidewalk before him, reaching out for him, a hint of frantic fear in her voice.

“Is he okay? David?”

It seemed she still cared, even after all of David’s deceptions. Killian sighed, giving her a small smile as he slowed down and let her fall into step beside to him. “Aye, he’s shaken up but on his way home.”

“Any news from Kathryn? Did you check with Boston?”

Killian shook his head in defeat. “She’s not there, Mary Margaret.”

“What happened to her?” There was something in her voice that seemed not being able to grasp the magnitude of what was to come, and Killian felt an overwhelming need to protect her, to make her realize what she was about to face.

If she thought ten volunteers dropping out of her bloody festival was bad, she wasn’t going to survive what came next.

“All we know is that Kathryn found out about you two, treated you to a well-deserved slap and has now has vanished, her car found abandoned by the side of the road.”

Mary Margaret had stopped walking, her expression wounded and stricken. His words had made a dent in her, he could see it.

“Well deserved? Is that what you think?” The obvious hurt in her voice tugged at Killian’s better nature. But best she hear it from him.

He took a slow step towards her, his hand reaching out to grasp her shoulder.

“No, not at all, darling. But that’s what _they_ will. I’m just trying to prepare you for how bad things are going to get if Kathryn isn’t found soon.”

“They wouldn’t think that David-” Mary Margaret started but Killian cut her off.

“They already do. And he’s not doing himself any favors by following you around with yearning looks and doey eyes the same day his wife goes missing.” Killian swallowed, his eyes meeting hers. “So if you know something, if there is anything about yesterday that you haven’t told me….”

“I don’t know anything” Mary Margaret attested. “I wasn’t with him. I haven't even talked to him today.”

Killian knew she was telling him the truth. “Aye.” He nodded and prodded her to start walking again. “Let’s go home, it’s bloody freezing out here.”

They hadn’t even made it ten steps in the direction of the loft when they both spotted Ruby standing by the bus stop. She was carrying a suitcase in one hand and seemed to be in the middle of fending off the insistent attentions of one Dr. Whale. From Killian’s vantage point, it didn’t look as though Whale’s advances were welcome.

“No, I really don’t need a ride.” Ruby’s words were firm, even with that creeping edge of annoyance. Her meaning was impossible to misinterpret.

And yet, Whale persisted with all the ignorance of a man that didn’t know when to stop. “It’s awfully cold. Let me carry your bag.”

The second step that Ruby took back spurred both Killian and Mary Margaret into action.

“Dr. Whale,” Mary Margaret called in a sharp tone.

Whale turned around, looking slightly uncomfortable. “Mary Margaret,” he said as his eyes traveled over her figure. Gods, Killian hated the idiot. To think that just today, he’d been encouraging Mary Margaret to perhaps give him another chance.

Killian’s contempt must have been visible on his face because Whale cleared his throat. “Sheriff, I was just, um, I-” He pointed towards the street. “Maybe I should-”

“Get lost, mate,” Killian didn’t have enough energy left in him to be polite at this point.

Whale nodded in acquiesce and simply walked away while Mary Margaret checked on Ruby.  “Was he bothering you?”

Ruby shook her head with a wry smile. “The day I can’t handle a leech is the day I leave town.” She turned around and Killian could see her breath coming out in puffs. “Which this is, I guess.”

The suitcase should have been a dead giveaway, if Killian weren’t already bone tired. “You’re leaving?”

“I had a fight with Granny. Quit my job,” Ruby declared with only a hint of a smile.

“You quit? Where’re you going?” Mary Margaret’s frantic voice made Killian’s senses wake up a little.

“I don’t know. Away.” Ruby shrugged, a hint of apprehension coming to her eyes as she eyed the bus stop sign.

“Buses out of town don’t really happen.” Killian hated to burst the woman’s bubble, but he hadn’t seen any buses in the time he’d been here. Before now he hadn’t paid it much mind. He hadn’t wanted to think of the implications, what with Henry’s theories about cursed towns. “Also, you might want a destination first. Figure out what you want to do?”

He knew a thing or two about running away from places and he didn’t think Ruby would make it without thinking a little about it first. Killian? For him it was a second nature to simply pack one bag, get in his car and drive away… but he’d had a lifetime of moving from one place to another, whereas Ruby, to his knowledge, had never left Storybrooke.

“Hey,” Mary Margaret started in that tone that Killian knew well. He’d been on the receiving end of it on a different chilly night. “If you need a place to figure things out, you could always come home with us.”

_Oh for the love of… just what he needed after the day he’d had. Not to mention the days he’d have ahead if Kathryn didn’t turn up._

Mary Margaret turned to look at him, her concern palpable, and he could feel his resolve crumbling. She was right, it wasn’t good form to leave a girl stranded in the street on such a cold night. He was a gentleman - or so his mother used to say.

“Yes, lass, you can have my room.” He moved around to pick up Ruby’s suitcase. “I’ll take the couch.” He gave Mary Margaret a pointed look. If people weren’t already talking before, the fact that he was now an unattached man living with not just one but _two_ single ladies, was going to be the talk of the town.

Mary Margaret seemed to read all his thoughts and soon her lips were turning up into a smile. “Nonsense Killian, you’re a _big_ boy and you need to be upstairs… You wouldn’t fit on the couch anyway.” She linked her arm with Ruby’s and gave him her best impression of a kinky smile. “Ruby and I can share my bed.”

He tilted his head and cocked a salacious eyebrow. “Hang on, let me go get Whale… he might want to hear that.  Maybe even beg you to let him watch.”

/-/

Killian didn’t stay on the ground floor long enough to find out about the sleeping arrangements for the night. After safely depositing Ruby’s suitcase in a corner of the room, by the couch, he tilted his head in a farewell bid and escaped upstairs. He barely had time to change into his sleeping clothes before he collapsed into the bed and let the exhaustion of the day drag him down into a deep slumber.

He woke up the next morning slightly disoriented - he’d been dreaming about Emma again. The details had been fuzzy, but there he could feel a desperation in her dream version that made his throat close in despair as he fought the dread in the pit of his stomach. Running a hand through this hair, he picked up a change of clothes and headed downstairs, ready to start the day.

The ground floor of the loft was deserted, a note left on the counter - next to a covered plate - informed him that both Ruby and Mary Margaret had taken off for the day. He smiled at the fact that they were thoughtful enough to leave him coffee and breakfast ready and he quickly jumped into the shower. After dispatching the pancakes and two mugs of coffee, rinsing the dishes and tidying up a bit, he was ready to start patrolling the town for any clues he might have missed before heading into the station later.

/-/

Killian walked into the station, the muscles on his back already aching from the time spent pounding the pavement trying to find some clues, when a feminine voice surprised him.

“Sheriff’s station. Hey, Miss Ginger. Uh, no, that’s not a prowler. That’s Archie’s dog – Pongo. Throw him a vanilla wafer. He’ll quiet down. Did you still want to talk to Killian? Great. Glad I could help.” Killian took a few steps into the room, marveling at the site of Ruby  - looking like, well, Ruby - manning the phone efficiently as she dispatched the call, Henry sitting right next to her. Her little smile warmed his heart. She seemed to be in a better mood than the night before.

“How are you?” He asked as the threw the keys over his desk and discarded his leather jacket.

“Great!” Ruby said sarcastically, her smile now fading into a pout. “Except that I can’t do anything.”

There was something in her voice that tugged at Killian’s heart. He remembered that feeling of inadequacy very well. It had been imprinted on him - and Emma - time after time from foster family after foster family. It’d only been the memories of his parents and brother’s loving words what had prevented him believing the worst of what they said about him. It seemed like Ruby needed a little of that encouragement these days.

“I’m sure that is not true, lass. I’ve just seen you attending to that call very efficiently.”

“That?” The disbelief in her voice was heartbreaking. “That was nothing.”

Killian clenched his jaw, ready to contradict her but stopping himself short as a new idea formed in his head. From the files he’d been pouring over after Graham’s death, he knew there was budget enough in the station to cover for a deputy and an assistant/secretary at the station. The positions had simply never been filled - at least not until Graham had offered him the deputy job. He could use someone like Ruby to help him out. She knew how to manage the phones, was cordial enough and had the town knowledge to stop the more petty matters from ever reaching his desk. Besides, he’d set up a hotline in hopes that someone had seen anything related to Kathryn’s disappearance. He could use Ruby’s help to sort out the pranksters from the legitimate tips. And quite honestly, he could use someone around in the office to distract him from the silence that had filled the place since it’d been only him on the job.

“No, it isn’t nothing.” He made his tone firm but gentle at the same time as his eyes focused on her. “I have some the wiggle room in budget, and I could use someone like you to help out around here if you’re willing.”

Ruby’s eyes lit with cheer and her smile widened as she quickly stood up from the chair and faced him. “Yes! Killian, thank you so much! I could answer the phone and help out. What else do you need? I can organize files, clean up. Please, I want to be useful.”

Her bubbly energy and eagerness to help made Killian smile softly. “I tell you what. I’m currently focused on the Kathryn Nolan case and I’d be grateful if you’d be so kind as to grab us some lunch. I am in desperate need of a burger and fries.”

“Done.” She smirked as she grabbed her jacket and bag, turning to Henry. “Do you want anything?”

“Two chocolate chips, and apple pie and a hot dog.”

Killian chuckled as he reached for his wallet and handed Ruby some money. “He’s at that growing age it seems.”

He was heading to his office when he heard Ruby speak again. “Mary Margaret! I’m getting lunch for everyone, do you want some?”

Killian turned in time to see Mary Margaret shake her head before her eyes found his. She looked concerned and slightly frightened.

“It’s David,” she said as she stood next to Killian, her voice filled with worry. “He’s in the woods and there’s something wrong with him.” Her eyes were begging for Killian’s help. “He looked right through me as he didn’t know me… as if he was a different person.”

/-/

Killian took a few moments to shrug on his leather jacket and review the paperwork spread around his desk while Henry carefully locked his storybook in one of the drawers in the deputy desk.

“Lad, I’m sorry to cut your visit short, but I need to investigate this situation with David.”

“It’s okay,” Henry lift one of his shoulders in an understanding way. “I’m supposed to meet my mom anyway.” He handed Killian the keys of the drawer and gave him a quizzical look, that look he’d come to associate with all Operation Cobra’s affairs. “You know, you can let Ruby do more.”

“Is that so?” Killian’s lips curve into a smile, still marveled at his son’s imagination to find a fairytale character match for every person in the town. “And who might Ruby be?”

“Little Red Riding Hood.”

Killian almost snorted as he tried to connect Ruby’s alluring image with the one he had in his mind from the childhood tale. “Really? With the innocent smile and the little basket? I really don't see it, Henry.”

“She’s a badass. She just doesn’t remember how cool she is or what she’s capable of. But it’s true.” Henry’s unwavering faith in people never ceased to amaze Killian. He gave his son a small smile and a quick nod of his head as the child left the station and Ruby walked in, her shoulders slumped and sad smile on her face.

“Here’s your lunch,” she announced as she placed the brown bag and the sodas on the desk. “One thing I know I can do right after all.”

Henry had a point about her lack of confidence and Killian ached for her. He never thought Ruby as anything but a confident person from the way she’d engaged with customers and everyone in town. But the way she carried herself - almost crass at times - seemed to be just a facade to hide her real feelings. Killian could relate to that, as he’d resorted to hiding his true feelings underneath a tough exterior a few times as well.

“I tell you what, lass.” He grabbed the paper bag and the sodas. “Let’s pack this up and we can eat in the car. I need to head into the woods and I could use your help with the search.”

Ruby seemed uncertain. “I’m pretty sure I’m going to screw it up. I mean I’ll do it with flair, but-” she shrugged her shoulders in a self-deprecating way that Killian knew so well.

“Flair is a requisite for the job, darling.” He quirked an eyebrow at her. “Besides, you can’t possibly be worse at tracking in the woods than me. I promise, you’ll be fine.”

/-/

The ride towards the edge of town was silent while Killian devoured his burger quickly, mulling over the past few days, not being able to control some of the thoughts invading his mind. He’d already had enough with the gossip surrounding Mary Margaret and him living together - and her dalliance with David - to add any more tattles regarding Ruby. And he didn’t want to give any impression to the woman that he might be interested in anything other than having her lend a helping hand around the station. He pulled over the side at the beginning of the trail that went into the woods.

“Ruby,” he started, clearing his throat, warmth blushing his cheeks. “You know I'm not taking you into the woods to try anything, aye?  I mean, you know that me offering you the job is not-” he stuttered over his words while Ruby quirked an eyebrow at him. “When we first met, I might have made a few remarks but I-”

Her lips curved into a smile and she pressed a hand over his arm to stop his idiotic babbling. “Relax, hotshot. It’s clear to all of us that you’re still hung up on Henry’s mother. A decade later.” She looked at him from top to bottom, assessing him. “She must have been one hell of a girl.”

His mind filled with images of Emma: from her quirky smiles to her fiercest looks and everything in between. Everything that made him miss her day in and out.

“That she was,” he admitted softly as they got out of the car and headed to the woods.

A few months living here in Maine, but Killian still had little to no idea on what he was doing while tracking in the woods. He tried to scout the terrain and pay attention to footprints on the ground, but his attempts were feeble at best. After all, he _thought_ those looked like fresh boot prints but being actually sure was a different matter altogether.

“This place is massive. How are we supposed to find one guy?” Ruby was having a hard time finding some of the confidence she seemed to flaunt around the diner.

“Perhaps we can hear him?” Killian offered but he didn’t sound sure even to his own ears.

“ _Massive_ , Killian.” She threw her hands in frustration.

“Look, I think those boot prints might be fresh. Let’s follow those and see what turns out.”

Ruby looked at him with despair. “I shouldn’t be here… I’m probably going to ruin this for you.”

Before Killian was able to refute her words, Ruby had stopped dead in her feet, her head tilting to the side, her features changing completely. “Wait. I hear him.”

“You what?” he asked confused.

She tilted her head to the side and turned towards a path that went deep into the woods- “I can hear him, or something like him. Don't you?”

All he could hear was the sound of the wind brushing on the leaves, birds chirping and perhaps something that could be running water. A man? Not really. Ruby didn’t wait for his reply before she darted deeper into the woods and Killian had no other choice but to follow, putting extra care to watch where he was stepping.

“Over here!” he heard Ruby call for him and when he turned his head to where the sound was, he found Ruby standing over a pair of feet covered in men's boots. He took two quick strides and the sight in front of him revealed a bleeding and unconscious David. It was very much like the last time they’d found him in the woods, only that this time he was fully clothed instead that wearing only a hospital gown.

“David!” Killian called as he leaned over and shook the man, trying to wake him up. After a few shakes, David opened his eyes, looking confused and disoriented.

“Killian? Ruby?” He struggled to focus as Killian slowly helped him seat.

“Mate, do you remember anything?”

“No, I - what is going on? I was in your office and now… why am I here?”

Killian’s breath caught in his throat. “You don’t remember anything since _last night_?”

David shook his head and Killian felt his blood run cold.

This was bad.

/-/

Killian sent Ruby back to the station on the patrol car while he rode the ambulance with David towards the hospital. He sat on a chair nearby as Whale ran some tests on David and approached them both as the doctor gave David a diagnostic.

“Bruised, scratched up, a little dehydrated. Nothing out of the ordinary in cases like this.”

“What about the cut on his head?” Killian asked, as if to see if there might be something else going on there, like it being a defensive wound.

Whale seemed to read the intent of his question but had the tact not to verbalize Killian’s line of thinking out loud - almost unbelievable considering how tactless the wretched doctor was when it came to the female population of the town. “The cut is superficial, it could have been easily done when he fell down in the woods. I can refer him to Hopper for a full psychological evaluation but in my professional opinion, whatever caused the original blackout when he came out of his coma is the same issue we’re dealing with here.” He tilted his head as he pointed out David’s actions. “Disappearing, acting out, having no recollection of it later.”

Killian saw David flinching at Whale’s words and while the man still wasn’t his favorite person in town, he had a job to do as Sheriff. “We will get to the bottom of this, David.” He turned to face Whale again. “He talked to someone while in this _trance…_ is that a common occurrence?”

“There have been cases of people doing all sorts of things in similar situations-” Whale started with the intention of expanding, but David cut him off, his eyes focused on Killian.

“You want to know if it’s possible I made that call.” Killian tried to keep his face blank, to not give away what he was thinking but it seemed David wasn’t fooled easily. The other man’s eyes widened. “More than that? If I could have taken her? _Killed her_?”

The last of his words came out in almost a hysterical shriek and Whale was quick to rush to David’s side. “Take it easy, Mr. Nolan, this cannot be good for you.”

But David’s eyes were fixated on Killian and he couldn’t avoid the other man’s pleading stare. “I’m just trying to piece it all together, that’s all. I’m trying to get to the bottom of this and _find your missing wife_.”

Maybe his words were harsh, but Killian needed to be strong in his determination to get to the truth in this case. He’d already been fooled once with the phone records and while he didn’t want to bring external examples to this, the man in front of him had quite dexterously fooled both his wife and his mistress. He might _seem_ like a good bloke, but Killian wasn’t that sure.

David’s retort died on his lips as Regina’s commanding voice pierced the room. “Stop talking, David.” Killian turned to see her storming the room in all her majestic glory, her eyes poised to him with furious glee. “Why are you here? Why doesn’t this man have a lawyer present? Have you even read him his rights?”

Killian clenched his jaw and almost spitted the words out, his hand fisting at the side. “I’m here because I found him passed out on the woods and I’m trying to piece this together. I haven’t read him his rights because he’s not under arrest or even under questioning.” He took two steps and towered over Regina, who didn’t even move a muscle. “I’m here because, whether _you_ like it or not, I’m the bloody Sheriff of this town and I’m doing my bloody job. Now why are _you_ here, Miss Mills?” Regina’s eyes darkened as Killian decided to forego her town mayor status and he relished on that. “It seems to me that you might be interfering with an ongoing police investigation.”

At those words, Regina took one step closer to him and gave him a triumphant glare. “I’m his emergency contact.”

_What the bloody hell? Had David been playing the field with Regina too? How many women were connected to this bloody idiot?_

Without uttering a word, Killian turned his head and cocked an eyebrow at David, urging him to explain this strange situation. David looked confused. “I thought it got changed to Kathryn…”

Killian almost bought it, but he couldn’t bring himself to believe anything from the man at this point. He turned to Regina for her to explain.

She cleared her throat. “Kathryn is currently unavailable. Some people haven’t found her yet.”

Right, of course she’d turn the blame on him. Killian contemplated a sarcastic retort back to Regina, but it was futile at this point. He had better things to do with his time. He could leave the mayor to fuss over _poor David_ while he focused on finding Kathryn and getting to the bottom of this.

“You’re right, Miss Mills. If you’ll excuse me, I need to go back to my duties.”

He didn’t even wait for a reply as he turned and left the room. He was going to canvass all of Maine if needed, but he was going to figure this out. And he had an idea on where to start… but he needed help.

/-/

Ruby had answered the phone in a friendly tone and it had taken a few tries for Killian to convince her to head back out into the woods and search near the Toll Bridge in his stead. Part of him - that part that always sounded eerily like Liam in his head - was telling him that one certainly shouldn’t leave a lass to fend for herself in the woods, especially with a possible kidnapper on the loose. But there was another part of him that had seen Ruby in her element tracking down David. When she’d let go of her fears, she’d been a much accomplished tracker in all of fifteen minutes that he’d ever been in his entire life.

Besides, he couldn’t leave the hospital yet. David was about to be released and Killian was planning to go back to his old bailsbond days and follow the man’s steps thoroughly, albeit stealthily. If David was lying, his mask would have to slip at some point. And Killian wanted to make sure he was there when it happened.

Ruby called him the moment she was into the woods and Killian did his best to soothe her frantic fears as he encouraged her to keep on going.

“Look for anything that seems out of place. Something that is there but shouldn’t be,” he tried to explain, frustrated for not being able to articulate himself better. But how can someone explain a hunch? It had no reason or logic, it was simply a deep-rooted belief that she’d be able to find something he most certainly could not.

There were sounds of steps and rustling on the other side and Killian held his breath, his eyes still darting towards the front of the animal shelter from time to time to ensure David was still there. Finally Ruby spoke again, her voice sounding slightly far away, as if she’d placed the phone on the ground.

“Any other clues?”

“I don’t know, something of Kathryn’s would be a good start.” He took a deep breath. “You can do this, lass. I have faith in you.”

_Blasted hell, he was starting to sound like Henry._

The piercing sound of a scream on the other side of the line made Killian jump and he fought not to swerve the car, his heart beating frantically in his chest. “

“Ruby!” the fear was palpable in his raised voice, as he held onto his phone. “Lass! Lass!”

/-/

Killian didn’t know how long it took him to get to where Ruby was. When she’d finally stopped screaming and started blurting words frantically in between fits of hysterical sobs, the only words that Killian could make sense of there were ‘box’ and ‘blood’. He put on the siren and broke all speed limits, not really caring about anything but making his way towards the poor girl that he’d sent on the woods on a wild chase. His guilt was eating at his guts as he took one look at Ruby’s tear-stained face and without giving a blasted thought to propriety or gossip, he took her into his arms in a comforting embrace.

“I’m so sorry… I never should have asked you to come here on your own,” he blurted as she sniffed into his chest.

She took a deep calming breath. “It’s okay, I’m the one who wanted to try new things. I guess I got what I wished for.”

/-/

Killian couldn't quite recall the details of the ride back to the station. His heart was beating frantically in his chest and his fingers were holding the wheel with such force that his knuckles were turning white. He’d been a reckless fool in letting Ruby go out on her own. What had he been thinking?

Luckily, Ruby had quickly pulled herself together and she seemed almost like her old self by the time there were both standing in his office, the wooden jewelry box she’d found placed on his desk.

“It’s what I think it is, isn’t it?” Ruby asked softly, her eyes fixed on the box. Killian reached out to open it once again, almost wishing that it had all been a trick on both of their minds the first three times they looked.

Unfortunately, it was not the case. It was still a _bloody heart_ sitting in there. Ruby let out a loud exhale and turned around.

“I can’t look anymore.”

“Ruby, I am so sorry,” he started, guilt tripping inside his chest. 

She turned around and gave him a sheepishly smile. “You were just trying to help, Killian. You couldn’t have known I was going to find _this_ hidden in the woods. It’s all my fault for trying to do something different.”

“Your fault?” He choked on the words. How could she possibly think that _any_ of this was her fault? “Ruby look at me.” He waited until she met his eyes and gave her his most encouraging smile. “You were great in this Ruby. You found David - and then this-  with little to no direction at all while I was still trying to figure out which way was north in that blasted forest. I’ll still be trapped there looking for a clue if it weren’t for you.” He pointed to the box. “As awful as this is, it’s a good start for me to figure out things. I’m impressed with you, Ruby.”

He could tell she was fighting to accept the compliment. “I was scared out of my mind, Killian.”

“And you did it anyway. All the more reason to be impressed, Miss Lucas.”

She squeezed his arm. “Thank you, Sheriff Jones. But if you don’t mind, I think I’m going to see if Granny wants to give me my old job back. I don’t know what I want to do yet, but I know this is not it.”

He chuckled and nodded his head. “Fair enough.”

/-/

Killian took his time pulling the toolkit and dusting the box for finger prints, collecting them and running them through the system. He carefully executed each step, paying attention to ensure there were no mistakes that might later be ground for nullifying the findings. If the system came back with a match - and he was quite sure it would and they’d probably be David’s - he didn’t want Regina or any bloody lawyer in this town questioning the evidence.

His fingers tapped on the desk nearby the computer as the system run, his eyes darting from the screen to the wooden box, his mind already plotting how he would bring the man in for more questioning.

But then the system beeped and a name appeared on the screen. Killian had to blink twice to ensure he was reading properly.

_Mary Margaret Blanchard._

He could feel the blood leaving his face as his heart stopped. _Bloody Hell._

/-/

Killian punched his hand against the steering wheel in frustration, letting out a long exhale. He refused to believe it, but all signs pointed that he’d been played as a fool. He’d left the Station in a haze of thoughts, determined to find Mary Margaret and sort this out with her in the best possible way. But once he’d been able to track her down - she wasn’t at the loft, or Granny’s, or at the school - it was the last place he’d expected to see her.

He got out of his car and stole another glance at the animal shelter, witnessing her petite frame sitting on the edge of the couch as she talked to David. She was there. Not a day had gone by and she’d rushed to David’s side like a lovesick puppy, not caring about anyone or anything else.

Did she?

He knew evidence didn’t lie, that the fingerprints match name burning a hole in his retina were the truth he needed to abide. Had Mary Margaret lied to him all this time? Was she really the sweet school teacher that had fallen for the wrong man and had been tarnished in the process as he wanted to believe? Or was she a jealous woman, who was willing to do _anything_ to secure the love of the man she wanted?

Killian had wanted to believe the first so badly, had wanted to believe that someone was as good as she’d seemed. He’d wanted to believe that after a decade, someone had come to genuinely care for him again.

And yet, the sole sight of Mary Margaret next to David in that animal shelter made his blood boil. She’d played him. She’d played them all and he’d been a fool for believing in it.

He took a deep breath, cracking his neck to the side as he buried the pain and anger inside of him and made his way towards the shelter. He closed his eyes for a moment before he pulled the door open and entered.

David was the first one to see him. His eyes were glazy, as if he’d been holding back tears of desperation. “What is it?” he asked, his voice as thin as a threat, the fear and ache palpable in it. “Did you find her?”

Mary Margaret turned to face Killian, her eyes filled with concern and he knew in that very moment that everything he’d been telling himself for the past ten minutes had been nonsensical. He knew it could not have been her.

_He knew her._

But he still had a job to do. As much as his heart ached and he refused to believe it.

“We found a box in the woods.” Killian wasn’t even sure how his voice sounded so confident and collected when he felt anything but. “There was a human heart inside it.”

If someone’s world could fall apart in a moment, then David Nolan was the perfect image for it. He almost collapsed as his knees gave away and it was only Mary Margaret’s rushing through his side to support him.

“I’m going to send it for more testing, but there isn’t anyone else missing.” He wasn’t sure why he kept talking, other than he felt that if he’d stop, he was going to fall apart. David’s sobs were heartbreaking and a part of Killian wished to simply banish himself from this town forever. Mary Margaret turned to face him, her face nothing but sadness and concern.

“Maybe you should go.”

Killian tilted his head as he felt his own eyes filling in with tears he wasn’t willing to shed. “There were fingerprints inside the lid, Mary Margaret. I ran them through the records in town and there was a match.”

His voice was breaking and he had to take a step back to compose himself.

“Arrest me!” David’s word cut through the same between them like a blade.

“David, no!” Mary Margaret sobbed, her hand trying to reach him but failing.

“Mate,” Killian started, not even sure how he was going to continue speaking. “They weren’t yours.”

There was shock in both sets of eyes. Killian didn’t want to, but he forced himself to meet her eyes.  “They were Mary Margaret’s.”

If a heart could break again and again, he was damn sure Mary Margaret’s was as her eyes widened in realization and she turned to David only to find the man looking at her in disbelief.


	15. XV

##### Chapter XV

The one good thing about being Sheriff in a small town - and having no deputy - was that one could take liberties. Those liberties allowed Killian to escort Mary Margaret to their loft that night and tell her they would head to the station and deal with the mess the next morning. He bid her farewell after that and simply retreated to his room. A part of him wanted to stay by her side and assured her everything will be fine, but he also knew that he needed to put some distance between them in case everyone came asking questions the next day.

He barely slept that night and by the shadows underneath her eyes, neither had she. He drove them both silently to the station and once they were there, he fidgeted next to his desk. Killian knew what he had to do, he’d lain awake all night listing to himself all the reasons why he needed to take Mary Margaret to the station that morning and yet…

“You have to book me, don’t you?” Mary Margaret met his eyes, a gentle smile on her face. He couldn’t believe she was the one maintaining a cool facade during all this.

“Aye, I must.” He gestured for Mary Margaret to stand in front of the wall they used for mugshots and she quickly obliged.

“I didn’t kill Kathryn, Killian.”

“Of course you didn’t.” He was almost offended she felt the need to point that out to him. “But you know I have to go where the evidence leads.”

“And it points to me. Yesterday it seemed it was David…. Something is not right here.” There wasn’t even a hint of reproach in her voice, as if she wasn’t getting the short end of the stick on this one, as if she were simply trying to help him solve this as a friend.

“I know, darling, I know. But with your fingerprints on that box, if I don’t book you today...”

“Regina will have a strong cause to fire you,” Mary Margaret finished his thought for him, voicing his biggest concern. If he was still Sheriff, he could ensure every single thing was triple checked before proceeding, but if Regina found even one excuse to get rid of him, gods knew what type of treatment Mary Margaret - or anyone - would get. His eyes bored into hers, hoping she could read in them what he couldn’t say out loud.

“I’m still waiting for the DNA results to come back. But in the meantime, I need to ask you a few questions. I need you to bear with me.”

“I trust you,” she said, reaching to squeeze his hand. He felt a lump in his throat and he wanted nothing more than to release her and tell her to run far away from here. But he had a job to do and he had to be honest with her before they made it to that interrogation room.

“Mary Margaret, Regina is going to be there.” Mary Margaret’s eyes widened in fear and he held onto her hand. “She asked to present as a third-party observer, to ensure I remain impartial in the interrogation.” Killian swallowed, trying to find the words. He wanted her to know that he believed her, he believed _in_ her. “I know you’d never hurt anyone, Mary Margaret. _I know it_.”

Her eyes filled with unshed tears as she squeezed his hand again. “Come on, Sheriff. Do your job.”

/-/

Regina Mills looked every bit of the smug witch she could be when they entered the room. But luckily, she’d remained silent as Killian initiated the recording and started with his account of the facts they knew.

“The heart was found buried near the old Toll Bridge. It had been cut out by what appears to be a hunting knife. Have you ever been to that bridge before?”

May Margaret didn’t hesitate as she spoke. “Yes. It’s where David and I liked to meet.”

“David Nolan,” Killian clarified for the records and she nodded. “What was the purpose behind those meetings?”

“We were having an affair.” She was calm and collected as she honored the truth, and he was so proud of her at that moment. Leave it to Mary Margaret to do the right thing even in the worst of moments. She tilted her head and met Regina’s eyes. “I’m not proud of what happened, and I’m sorry. But that doesn’t change the fact that I did not kill Kathryn.”

Killian let those words sink in as he reached for the evidence shelf. He slowly put on a pair of latex gloves and retrieved the plastic bag that held the wooden box Ruby had found.

He placed the box on the table. “Have you seen this before?”

Mary Margaret tilted her head to the side, her eyes narrowing in confusion. “That’s my jewelry box.”

Killian’s heart sank in his chest and he had trouble keeping his voice calm. “We found the heart inside this.”

Mary Margaret finally broke, not being able to maintain her composure any longer. “Don’t you see? Someone must have stolen it and put the heart in it.” Her eyes filled with tears as she desperately turned from him to Regina. “I didn’t have anything to do with this.”

“Miss Blanchard.” Regina put her hand over Mary Margaret’s, her tone almost reassuring. Killian narrowed his eyes in suspicion. “I know what you’re going through. I know what it’s like to lose someone you love.” She gave it a moment for the words to sink in. “To be publicly humiliated. It put me in a very dark place. Changed me.” There was no hint of a lie, there wasn’t t even anything threatening in her words, and yet Killian could feel the darkness seeping behind every syllable, the way each word had been sharpened to a point, all the better to stab into Mary Margaret’s heart. “I can only imagine what losing David Nolan did to you.”

May Margaret released her hand from Regina’s hold. “I haven’t changed. I’m still the same. _I did not do this_.”

Regina’s eyes narrowed and attempted to speak, but Killian decided that he would not tolerate this anymore. “Madam Mayor, a word with you in the hallway.”

It took all this self-restraint but he managed to keep his voice level as he turned to her in the corridor. “You’re an observer here, not a party. You don’t get to ask questions or provide any color commentary on it. You’re tainting the investigation.”

Regina gave him a once-over. “You’re so convinced she didn’t do it. It’s written all over your face, Mr. Jones.”

“Sheriff Jones,” he corrected, his jaw clenching.

“If that box was stolen from her, as she claims, don’t you think there’d be signs of a break in?” She had a point there. Killian knew it and from the smug face Regina was sporting, she knew it too. “You’re her roommate – tell me. Has there been one?”

Killian fisted his hands at his sides, his mind searching for the perfect comeback. “I’m going to look into it.”

“Don’t beat yourself up over this, Jones. You’re a man, you can’t understand all of this,” Regina’s eyes twinkled with an evil streak that almost made Killian recoil. “She’s a woman who’s been heartbroken and deceived. That can make you do unspeakable things.”

“Does it? How would _you_ know, Madam Mayor?” He couldn’t resist the barb.

“I’m not the one being investigated, Sheriff,” she replied in a firm tone. “I suggest you focus on the case at hand. If you’re so sure she didn’t do it, find out who did.”

/-/

Killian hated this convoluted case with every beat of his once cold and now very much feeling heart. Those were the thoughts running through his mind as he put on a pair of latex gloves and started his careful canvass of the loft. He checked the door and the windows for any signs of a forced entry, but there were none. He was ruminating on that, his eyes fixated on the glass of the window, when Henry’s voice reached him from the front door.

“What are you doing?”

“Why aren’t at school?” Killian’s irritation was noticeable in his voice. While he was no stranger to cutting school, his wayward years had started a little later than his boy’s. At Henry’s age, he’d taken solace in school, it was somewhere he could take refuge from the despicable foster family of the week (or the month) that had taken him in.

Ignorant of his musings, Henry walked towards him. “We have to help Miss Blanchard. She didn’t do it.”

Killian wanted to believe that with his very soul. _He believed that_. But he couldn’t let his guard down and show any partiality in this case, not even for a second, not even in front of the son he so desperately wanted to comfort at the moment. “That is what I’m trying to do, lad. I’m searching the apartment for any sign of a break in.”

He wasn’t sure why he was telling the lad all this. He knew he had to send the kid on his merry - or maybe not so merry - way back to school or his mother’s house. But Killian was desperate for company. It had always been like this. He’d convinced himself he didn’t need anyone after the loss of his parents and Liam, only to have Emma come barging into his life and become his everything. Now, a decade later, he’d been managing on his own, telling himself he didn’t need anyone, but it had only taken one look from Henry and one kind word from Mary Margaret for his resolve to crumble. With Mary Margaret now locked behind bars - and by himself, no less, - Killian clung to his son’s company as if it were the only thing that could keep him from falling apart.

“What signs?” Henry asked, bringing him back to the present.

“Busted door jambs, broken glass, muddy boot prints. That kind of thing.” Killian waved his hand in the air as his eyes studied the windows with scrutiny.

“You think someone set her up?”

“I don’t know, Henry,” Killian sighed, resisting the urge to run his hand through his hair, instead collapsing backwards onto Mary Margaret’s bed, his eyes focused on the ceiling. “What else could it be? But on the other hand, who would want to frame Mary Margaret?”

“My mom. She hates Snow White.”

_Of course._

Killian turned his head to the side, his eyes finding Henry’s, ready to give his son a strong reprimand over his words. But when he met his hazel eyes, the look in his young face so much like Emma’s, he knew he couldn’t. “That won’t hold up in court, lad.”

A steady noise, as if something metallic were hitting a wall, interrupted his thoughts. Killian darted out of the bed, focusing his hearing to find the source of the sound, his eyes connecting with the intricate iron grate of the heating vent. His heart beat rapidly in his chest as he removed the grate and stuck his hand in. It didn’t take long for his fingers to make contact with cloth, a cloth that seemed to be wrapped around a solid object. With a growing sense of dread, he removed the object, thankful that he still was wearing his latex gloves. But soon his thoughts became a curse as he realized he was holding onto a hunting knife.

_Bloody hell._

/-/

Killian couldn’t even remember the fuzzy details on what happened next, other than that he mumbled to Henry that he needed to leave and go back to school. After that, he was unable to bring himself off the floor, lying there for a while, looking at the marks on the wooden floor. He finally shook himself out of it and made a call. He waited for the forensic guy to show up and left the knife with him, instructing him to canvass the area for any prints he could find, although he had an inkling they wouldn’t find any that didn’t match him or Mary Margaret.

With a heavy heart, he made his way back to the Sheriff’s Station. The sight of Mary Margaret behind bars almost did him in completely, but he knew he had to carry through this if he had any chance to help her. Breaking the news was hard enough, and the shock and hurt on her face was even worse to endure.

“The heating vent?” she asked, her voice small and insecure, her hands holding onto the bars. “Killian, I don’t know where the heating vent in my room is.”

“Someone did, and they planted a knife in it.” He wanted to reach out and comfort her, but he knew he had to keep his distance for appearance’s sake. “I checked for signs of a break-in, and there is none.”

She rested her forehead against the bars defeatedly. “You don’t believe me.”

Against all his better judgement, he was by the bars in an instant. “Mary Margaret, look at me,” he pleaded with her. When she met his eyes, Killian did his best to reassure her. “I believe in you, lass. But there is evidence piling up against you by the hour. Every time I try to follow a lead to help clear your name, I run into more compromising evidence, that I can’t just turn a blind eye.” He took a deep breath, letting that sink in. “It’s time for you to get a lawyer.”

“An excellent idea.” Killian turned around as the voice resonated in the room and groaned internally at the sight of Gold on the other side.

“What in the blazes are you doing here?” Killian spat, putting a little distance between himself and Mary Margaret and crossing his arms over his chest.

“I’m offering my legal services,” Gold said with a smug grin.

_What?_ It seemed that Gold was able to read Killian’s implicit question in his shocked expression, because he kept talking as he walked towards them. “Ever wondered why I was so adept at contracts? I’ve been following the details of your case, Miss Blanchard. And I think you’d be well-advised to bring me on as your counsel.”

“Why is that?” Mary Margaret asked, drying the tears in her eyes and wrapping herself further into her cardigan. She looked so fragile at the moment, that Killian groaned inwardly at the idea of her fate in Gold’s hands.

Gold kept his smug grin plastered on his face: “The Sheriff had me arrested for nearly beating a man to death, and I managed to persuade the judge to drop the charges.”

Killian felt the rage flooding him at the blatant intention of the other man’s words. “Asserting your influence by buying people’s beliefs isn’t what’s needed here, Gold.”

“It might be exactly what is needed here.”

“No. I need to do my job and find the truth!” Killian replied, getting closer to losing his temper at the other man.

“Enough.” Mary Margaret’s voice was barely a whisper, but it made Killian stop. “He’s right, Killian. I need help.”

Killian took two steps and faced her with a pleading voice. “Mary Margaret, I know people. I can make a phone call and get you some of the best lawyers in Boston to look into your case. Please, let me help.”

She smiled sadly at him. “You can’t get me a lawyer, Killian. You know how it would look. If you happen to find any evidence that absolves me, people can say you fabricated it. You have to stay out of it.”

She was right and he hated it that she was right. He hated that the only choice was to leave her in the hands of a man that didn’t do anything out of the goodness of his heart. “May Margaret, please don’t do this,” he pleaded one last time.

Her hand reached for his through the bars and squeezed it. “You need to do your job, Killian, or else I’m screwed. So, just please – do your job the best you can, and you’ll prove me innocent. Until you do, I’m going to get Gold to help me.”

“Trust me. This is in Miss Blanchard’s best interests.”

Killian turned around and towered over Gold. “You better have her best interests in mind or you’ll answer to me, Gold.”

With the threat looming over them, he took a final step and left Mary Margaret with Gold, hoping it wasn’t the worse decision he’d ever made.

/-/

When Gold left, Killian checked on Mary Margaret, but she seemed aloof and distracted. After ensuring she was settled and didn’t need anything else from him, Killian headed back to the loft, a few heavy folders under his arm, determined to spend the rest of the day - and night - finding something to exonerate Mary Margaret.

He was climbing the stairs when Henry’s voice interrupted his thoughts.

“I have proof.” The lad held up a ring that held several keys. They looked old and rusty, as if they belonged in a medieval age museum. “This is how my mom broke in and framed Miss Blanchard.”

_Oh Lord._

“Henry, did you take these from your mother?” Killian rose an eyebrow at his son, his finger pointing to the ring. “Did you _steal_ them?”

Henry didn’t acknowledge the shrill note to Killian’s voice. “Yeah. The book says they can open any door.”

Killian tilted his head and took one step closer to examine the keys. There was no way those things could have worked. If Henry would have found a set of picks like the one he used to open locks then maybe he could consider it, but these….

“This won’t fit in the lock, lad,” he said gently, trying to ease down his son’s expectations.

“We have to try!” Henry jumped to his feet and quickly moved to try the keys in the lock. Killian noticed how his shoulders slumped with each unsuccessful try.

“Henry…” Killian called, his hand reaching to stop Henry’s movement. “I know you want to believe all the answers lie in the book and a cursed town, but you have to start living in reality, lad.”

“Just one more?” Henry begged, not willing to let the matter go just yet. He held one skeleton key out to him. “Can you try this one?”

He should say no. He should take this nonsense and nip it in the bud. But Killian was defenseless against his son’s pleading eyes.

Taking the key from his fingers, he silently tried it on the lock, his heart skipping a bit when it opened the door of the loft.

_Bloody hell. This can’t be happening._

/-/

Killian decided to keep this discovery to himself, knowing full well that any proof he acquired by testing a stolen skeleton key wouldn’t hold up in court. He needed more - _much more_ \- and it would have to be obtained by legal methods in order to even think of pointing his accusing finger to Regina. As much as he hated it, he needed to wait this one out and keep on going through the motions while investigating on the side.

He was plotting out his next move as he headed back to the station and ran into David. The man seemed distracted, as if he were carrying a heavy weight in his heart. He’d pleaded with Killian to see Mary Margaret and while a huge part of Killian rebelled against the idea, he knew that Mary Margaret would like to see him. Maybe David could give her a little bit of hope and strength to endure this trial. Killian motioned for David to go into the station while he headed quickly to Granny’s to grab some coffee.

He was making his way back into the station when the sound of Mary Margaret’s voice made his blood run cold.

_“When your phone records came back, when I found you wandering in the woods, when everyone thought you killed Kathryn, I stood by you. I never once doubted you.”_

Killian took a deep breath, calming himself as he stealthily entered the room. Mary Margaret was standing and even from the distance, Killian could see the way she was crossing her arms over herself, her chin quivering as if she were having a tough time keeping it together.

_“And, now that everything is pointing to me, you actually think I am capable of that kind of evil?”_

Killian fisted his hand at his side, wanting to pummel David. He was about to take a step when Mary Margaret spoke again, tears streaming down her face.

_“Get. Out.”_

David tried to take a step towards Mary Margaret’s cell, but Killian quickly jumped into action the moment he saw Mary Margaret taking a step back.

“Leave, mate,” he all but spat the words, striding purposefully into the room, his eyes levelling against David’s. “You asked to see her and I thought maybe it was a good idea for her to have some support other than me… and this is what you came to say to her? Fill her heart with the despair of your doubt? Leave, now… you don’t deserve her.”

_You’ll never deserve her._

He watched David’s eyes filled with tears as he took his leave, but Killian couldn’t find it in his heart to feel sorry for the man. Only one thing invaded his thoughts; Henry had got it all wrong. There was no way that man had fathered him.

/-/

Killian volunteered to spend the night with Mary Margaret at the station, but she’d refused profusely, sending him home to the loft. It wasn’t a night where he got much sleep and the early morning call to the forensics department only cemented his worse fears. He picked some coffee and breakfast from Granny’s for Mary Margaret and headed to the station.

Mary Margaret was sitting on the cot when he entered the station. “I brought you breakfast,” he announced as he slid the cup and bag through the cell bars. Mary Margaret took the items but refused to meet his eyes.

Killian pushed through the sadness this entire situation was causing him and tried to maintain a level tone. “I know Gold probably instructed you not to talk to me, and I understand why, but I want you to hear from me that the DNA results came back positive for Kathryn Nolan.” He swallowed hard and met Mary Margaret’s eyes. “She’s dead.”

Mary Margaret remained silent, as if she weren’t listening to him, her gaze lost in the distance.  When she finally spoke, her voice sounded small and uncertain. “This means you have enough evidence for a case against me, doesn’t it?”

Killian forced himself to continue. “Aye. But you know I believe you, right? All of this only tells me that you’re being framed.”

“Framed? By whom?”

“Regina. I’m certain but-”

“But you can’t prove it. And this is her town. Trying to build a case against her is almost impossible, Killian.”

“I will do it. I promise. I will get you out of here.” Killian reached to hold Mary Margaret’s hand through the bars. “I need you to have faith in me, Mary Margaret.”

She lowered her gaze as she spoke. “I have faith in you.”

He could hear the lie in her voice, and while part of Killian’s heart broke at it, he also couldn’t blame her. Regina was powerful, and Killian was nothing but a simple man, tilting at windmills on his own.

He needed help and as much as he hated it, he knew what he had to do if he wanted to save his friend.

/-/

He hated being here, he did, but he had no other choice. Killian sighed as he stepped into Gold’s shop and called for the man. It was less than a minute before the other man showed up, limping slowly as he held a lamp in his hand.

“What can I do for you, Sheriff?” Killian didn’t miss the disdain with which Gold pronounced the last word and while he wanted nothing more than to simply turn around and walk out, he knew he couldn’t afford to. “Any developments in the case I should be aware of?”

Killian tilted his head to the side. “She’s being framed.”

That seemed to pique Gold’s interest. “By whom?”

“Regina.”

“I’m not surprised,” Gold said, his hand grabbing a magnifying glass to study the lamp. “Where’s your evidence?”

“Well, that is the crux of the matter, Gold. I have nothing that can hold up in court.”

“So just your faith?” Gold spat, smirking at him. “Are you here to discuss your hunches with me?”

Killian clenched his jaw, forcing himself to say the words. “I need your help.”

“I seemed to recall you telling me you’d never wanted to liaise with the likes of me.”

Gold was not going to make this easier on him, but Killian was willing to take it. Mary Margaret had to come first. “May Margaret needs your help, Gold. Every time I try to go against Regina, she sees it coming. I need a chance to save my friend.”

Gold examined him. “Are you willing to go as far as it takes?”

For Mary Margaret? For the one person other than Henry that had trust in him and welcomed him with open arms? “Whatever it takes.”

Gold smirked. “Now we’re talking. Fear not, Mr. Jones. Regina may be powerful, but something tells me you’re more powerful than you know.”

Killian felt as if he’d just sold himself and Mary Margaret to the most despicable evil that ever existed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I know everyone is wondering where Emma is... I can't tell. not yet. She will be in the fic, but this first part if about Killian's journey


	16. XVI

After a brief meeting in the pawn shop, Killian returned to the police station with Gold. While he wasn’t that keen on letting the man into the investigation, Killian knew he had no other chances at this point. Mary Margaret needed help. The kind of help Killian couldn’t provide at this point.

Killian couldn’t hide his surprise when he spotted Henry sitting on the bench of the police hallway, the storybook resting on his lap.

“Henry, lad, what are you doing here?”

“I came to congratulate you,” Henry said with a beaming smile that Killian couldn’t understand considering the dire straits they were in.

“Congratulate me for what?” 

“Your genius plan!”

“And what plan’s that, Henry?” Gold took the words right out of Killian’s mouth and for once, he was thankful. Trying to make sense of his son’s mind was taking a toll on him after the day he’d had.

Henry’s eyes darted to Gold and his smile suddenly faded. “Nothing,” he mumbled, averting his gaze, as a child that didn’t want to confess his deeds in front of strangers.

Gold seemed to have caught on this meaning, because he mumbled something that Killian couldn’t understand and signaled to Killian that he was heading towards Mary Margaret’s cell. Killian nodded and watched him go.

The moment Gold was out of hearing distance, Henry barged into an explanation. “Sorry. I thought Mr. Gold was in on it, now that he’s Miss Blanchard’s lawyer.”

“In on  _ what _ ?” What was Henry talking about? What genius plan was in the works that Henry thought he had a hand in, and Killian was clueless about?

“The escape plan,” Henry announced as if it were the most logical thing in the world.  

The dread was only just starting to creep up Killian’s spine when Gold’s voice came from the other room. “Sheriff, could you join me, please?”

Killian quickly made his way into the office and he could hear Henry trailing along after him. The sight when he arrived caused his heart to plummet down to his stomach. The jail cell door was open. And the cell was empty.

_ Mary Margaret was gone. _

“She’s gone,” Gold announced. Killian would be annoyed at the man’s incessant need to point out the obvious if he weren’t too worried about Mary Margaret to care.

“Henry, what did you do?” He turned around and faced his son. If the kid had somehow aided Mary Margaret in her escape, Killian was going to ground him until he was old enough to drive. Or longer.

“Nothing. She was gone when I got here.” There wasn’t an ounce of lie in the words, but the reprieve in Killian’s soul was brief. He was glad his son wasn’t involved in aiding a detained person’s escape, but if he was telling the truth, that meant...

_ Mary Margaret, what have you done?  _

“Her arraignment is tomorrow. If she’s not there…” Gold again with the obvious, his timing as impeccable as always.

“She’s a fugitive.” Killian took a few steps forward and inspected the cell quickly, not finding anything out of place. She’d even made the bed before fleeing. He sighed. “It doesn’t matter if she’s convicted for Kathryn or not – she’s screwed.” Killian quickly made up his mind and turned towards his desk. “ I have to go find her before someone notices she’s missing.”

“You mean Regina?” Gold was really on a roll this evening and Killian had to suppress his annoyance. He busied himself unlocking the safe drawer on his desk and retrieving his gun and clip. Checking everything was in place, he quickly removed his leather jacket,  strapped on his shoulder holster and placed his gun inside. 

“The arraignment is at eight A.M. I’m sure she’ll be here bright and early to celebrate her victory.”

“We have until that time then,” Gold observed.

“How can I help?” Henry asked and Killian’s heart beat frantically in his chest.

“Henry, you will go home.” He didn’t want his son anywhere near this. First, even though he trusted Mary Margaret, chasing after a fugitive wasn’t a suitable excursion for a kid. Any kid. Let alone  _ his  _ kid, who’d inherited his talent for trouble. And second, if everything went to hell and Regina ever found out, Killian knew she’d make sure he would never see Henry again. Killian couldn’t take that chance.

Henry was ready to protest and Killian expected it. He was his son after all. Doing what he was told was not in his nature. Once again, he marvelled at the constant patience Isobel and Brennan had shown him growing up.

“Killian, if she tries to leave Storybrooke…” Killian didn’t let that sentence end. He didn’t have the time to cater to his son’s fairytale fantasies. Not today.

“Not now, Henry.” He gently pushed his son towards the exit. “ _ Go home and stay there _ .”

Once Henry had left the office, Killian turned to face Gold. The other man was unmoved, as if nothing ever bothered him. “Mr. Jones time is of the essence, but if Miss Blanchard doesn’t return, her future is in jeopardy. And if you’re caught helping her, so is  _ your _ future.”

Killian clenched his jaw. His future in this station was the least of his concerns right now. “I don't care if I lose my job. She’s my friend, she could be in danger - the person that framed her is out there. I’m going to find her.”

Without waiting for Gold’s reply, Killian pulled on his leather jacket and walked out of the station. He opened the door of his Bug and quickly turned over the engine. He’d considered for a brief moment taking the patrol car, but he didn’t want to raise any suspicions about his whereabouts. His mind racing, Killian drove out into the woods along the backroads. While he tried not to think about it, he couldn’t help being reminded of the months right after he got out of jail and how desperately he’d searched for Emma, only to come off empty-handed.

He quickly shook his head to eradicate his wandering thoughts. The night was foggy and it was hard to see more than a few feet in front of the car. The Bug wasn’t equipped with fog lamps so Killian didn’t see the man walking on the side of the road until he was almost at the curve. He quickly swerved, just in time to see the figure of the man fall to the side of the road. Killian slammed on the brakes and by the time he got himself free of the seatbelt, and out of the car, he was relieved to see the other man picking himself up out of the ditch.

“I’m sorry mate,  I didn’t see you there,” Killian said as he reached out a hand to help the man to his feet. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, thank you. I’m just not used to sharing the road with cars so late at night out here.” The man stretched, one hand braced against his back, as gave Killian a proper once-over. “You’re the Sheriff, aren’t you?”

“Aye.”

The other man tilted his head in confusion. “What brings you out here so late?”

Killian knew he couldn’t even hint at Mary Margaret’s escape t, especially to a stranger he’d found wandering down the road. “I’m looking for a lost puppy.” He knew exactly how it sounded, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

If the other man found something wrong with his cover story, he didn’t let it show. “I hope you find it soon. It’s not good to be outside on a cold night like this.” As he turned to leave, Killian noticed his limp.

“You’re hurt.”

The other man shrugged. “I think I twisted my ankle, but it’s not a big deal. I only live a mile down the road, I’ll be fine.”

Killian wanted to let the man go and continue his search for Mary Margaret. Time was of the essence in these cases. But he was somehow responsible for the man’s injury and in addition, he had a responsibility as Sheriff of the town.

“I’ll drive you.” He raised his hand before the man could object. “I won’t take a no for an answer. It’s my duty, mate.”

The other man smiled and nodded, his hand reaching to shake Killian’s. “I’m Jefferson.”

“Killian Jones.” Killian quickly made his way towards the driver’s seat as Jefferson climbed into the passenger’s side.

  
/-/

Jefferson’s house was a massive Manor house, large enough to fit all of Killian’s previous apartments combined, with room to spare. As he helped the man climb the stairs, Jefferson mentioned he had no family and it was just him alone in the house. Whilst odd, Killian didn’t think much of it. 

He was currently pacing around the living room, eager to go back to his search for Mary Margaret. Jefferson had asked him to wait and Killian had no idea why he’d agreed to it. 

Jefferson came back holding a tray and what seemed to be folded maps in his hands. “Here we go. I thought you might want to warm up for your search. It’s cold out there.” He poured some tea, handed a cup to Killian and grabbed the folded items. “I’m also bit of an amateur cartographer – mapping the area is a hobby. Maybe, this will help you track down your dog.”

Jefferson spread the maps over a piano and Killian took a sip of his tea while he examined the maps. They were thorough and very detailed - or at least that is what Killian thought. He never had much experience with maps, and it was in moments like this he wished Graham was still around. He probably could have made more sense of the maps in front of him than Killian could.

They seemed… confusing. “Route Six runs the boundary of the forest, so… So, if I just follow that, I should…” Killian couldn’t finish the sentence as the map starting to dance in front of him. Feeling dizzy, he pitched forward and leaned his entire weight on the surface of the piano, shaking his head. 

“Is something wrong?” Jefferson asked.

Killian tried to fight the wave of dizziness that came over him but found himself unable to do it. He swayed on the spot and Jefferson grabbed his elbow, supporting him as he helped Killian down onto the couch. Something didn’t add up here but Killian couldn’t clear his foggy mind long enough to figure out what. It was only when he noticed Jefferson walking towards the window that it all sank in. 

“Your limp is gone,” his voice felt strange and he fought the drowsiness overcoming him.

From half-closed lids, he watched as Jefferson gave him a sardonic smile.

_ Bloody hell. _ He’d forgotten the same rule he’d been drilling Henry’s head ever since he arrived in Storybrooke.

_ Never accept food or drinks from strangers. _

/-/

Killian woke up disoriented, and it took a few moments for his foggy mind to clear and for him to piece together what had happened. He noticed his jacket was gone, and he was tied up and gagged. Trying to remain calm - he hadn’t survived eleven months in jail without facing a dire situation or two - he searched around for something to use to his benefit. 

He spotted the teacup that must have fallen from his hand when he passed out. It wasn’t ideal but it could be of use. Looking around, he quickly located a cushion, which he nudged on top of the cup and then stomped on it. The pillow muffled the sound. Maneuvering himself onto the floor, Killian reached for one of the ceramic pieces with his bound hands. After a couple of minutes, he managed to cut the tape holding his wrists together. He untied his feet and removed the gag from his mouth. Careful not to make any noise, he made his way to the nearest window. He tried every single one, searching for a way out, but they were locked shut and the glass was fixed into the windows with no way of opening it. .. No escape route there. In fact, the only interesting thing in that part of the room was a telescope. He wasn’t sure exactly what made him look. But as he crouched down to peer through the eyepiece, he realized that from this vantage point, his telescope was pointed directly into Killian’s own bloody office. 

Already creeped out by the situation, a faint sound coming from the other side of the door caught Killian’s attention. He made his way there very slowly, thankful for the rug underfoot that muffled his steps. It was a shrieking sound, almost as if someone were sharpening…

Killian didn’t want to finish that thought as he slowly creaked the door ajar and peeked into the room across the hallway.  His heart sank in his chest as he watched Jefferson - if that was his real name - there, sharpening what seemed to be some kind of blade - scissors. They were scissors. 

Not wanting to spend one more bloody minute in this madman’s house unless it was with an arrest warrant and five back-ups heavily-armed, Killian made his way out of the room and into the hallway as silently as possible. When a rogue floorboard creaked underneath him, and afraid of alerting Jefferson about his escape, Killian quickly darted to the first door he found and stealthily opened it. He was just closing the door, his heart thudding violently in his chest as he tried to listen out for Jefferson’s steps when a muffled “ _ Killian”  _ sounded behind him. When he turned around, his knees almost collapsed from what he saw.

Mary Margaret was in the room, tied to a chair, her mouth gagged, her eyes terrified and filling with tears. 

/-/

Killian hastily darted towards Mary Margaret, reaching to remove the gag from her mouth.

“What is going on?” he asked almost to himself as he moved to free Mary Margaret’s hands. “What are you doing here?”

“Killian, thank God,” Mary Margaret spoke in rushed whispers, her voice breaking from fear. “I was in the woods, trying to get away. Then, this man appeared out of nowhere and grabbed me.” She paused a moment and seemed to be confused. “Why are you here?”

“I was trying you find you. You escaped on me,” Killian tried - and failed - to leave the accusation out of his voice. Mary Margaret looked chagrined. Not wanting to get into it at the moment, Killian averted his gaze as he focused on removing the duct tape from her ankles. “How did you get out?”

“There was a key… In my cell, under my pillow. Someone put it there.”

Killian wanted to know who’d left that key in there, but now was not the moment to dwell on such things. They needed to get out of this place as quickly as possible. Grabbing Mary Margaret’s hand, and making sure she was shielded behind him, Killian eased open the door and peered out into the hallway. It was deserted, so he slowly crept out into the hall, tugging Mary Margaret behind him. The sound of a gun cocking made the both of them stop dead in their tracks.

Jefferson was standing on the other side of the hallway, a gun in his hand pointed straight at them. “I see you found your lost puppy.”

“I’ve called for back-up,” Killian said instantly, standing straight and pushing Mary Margaret behind him. “They’ll be here any minute.”

Jefferson cocked an eyebrow at him, clearly not amused by his bluff. “You haven’t called anybody. For the same reason you didn’t tell me about  _ her _ . You don’t want anybody to know you’re here, which means, nobody does.” He pointed his gun at Killian. “So, now you need to tie her back up.”

“Over my dead body,” Killian refused, taking a deep breath, ready to face down this lunatic if it gave Mary Margaret enough time to escape. But Mary Margaret placed her hand on his elbow as she moved around him. 

“No, Killian,” she said with a calm Killian knew she didn’t feel. “It’s okay. Do what he says.”

He tried to refuse but Mary Margaret gave him a hard look before going back to the room they’d just left. Jefferson smirked and pointed his gun in that direction. Feeling defeated, Killian made his way back. His hands were shaking as he slowly bound Mary Margaret’s wrists, making sure the knots were loose enough for her to make a run for it if she could. He hoped his eyes conveyed that as he carefully put her gag back in her mouth. There were tears in her eyes, but she took a deep breath and nodded back at him.

If Mary Margaret was hoping her show of strength would calm him, she was wrong. He felt rage, white-hot, creeping through his veins, the desire to rip this man apart growing stronger with every second. Killian couldn’t disguise the bile in his voice as he faced Jefferson. “Your telescope. Why have you been watching me - us?”

“I need you to do something.” 

Jefferson pushed him towards the hallway and closed the door. Even with the wooden panel between them, Killian could hear Mary Margaret muffled screams.

/-/

Jefferson dragged Kilian to a new room. He only noticed a few top hats lying on a shelf by the wall before he turned and got into Jefferson’s face. “If you so much touch a hair on her head, I swear I’ll make you suffer.” 

Jefferson gave him a sardonic chuckle. “Hurt her? I’m saving her life.”

Killian’s eyebrows shot up to his forehead as Jefferson moved past him, all the while keeping his gun aimed squarely at Killian’s chest. “Don’t play stupid. You and I both know what happens when people try to leave Storybrooke.”

No, actually Killian didn’t know what happened, considering that he hadn’t  _ actually  _ witnessed anyone leave Storybrooke since he’d arrived. Now he started to think about it, the only people he knew for certain who’d crossed the town line in the past few months were himself, Henry... and August.  Nevertheless, he wasn’t going to share his thoughts with a madman that was holding Mary Margaret hostage and now pointing a gun at his head.

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about, mate,” he shrugged with as much nonchalance as he could muster.

Jefferson lowered his gun and took a few steps towards Killian. “The curse!”

His blood ran cold in that moment and Killian struggled to talk. “Wh...what curse?”

“The one keeping us all trapped. All except you.”

_ Bloody hell. Did that mean he’d been talking to his son? Or had this lunatic been the one that had taken Henry’s book? _

“Have you talked to Henry? Did you take his storybook?” Killian couldn’t help himself as he blurted the questions. 

Jefferson’s eyes squinted for a second, as if he were confused. “Henry? You mean the Queen’s father?”

_ Who?  _ “Henry, the Mayor’s son,” Killian clarified, not quite sure if he wanted to provide more information.

Jefferson cracked a small smile as if he had realized of something. “Oh, Henry.  _ Your  _ Henry.” Killian didn’t have time to acknowledge the two skipped beats of his heart at hearing someone refer to Henry as  _ his _ , because Jefferson kept talking and making Killian’s skin crawl.  “Your boy and his book of stories. The ones that you choose to ignore. Maybe, if you knew what I know, you wouldn’t.”

This man seemed to know a lot about Killian for being someone he’d just ran into for the first time tonight. Which, combined with the telescope, could only mean one thing. “Why have you been spying on me?” Killian asked, trying hard to keep most of the apprehension out from his voice. 

Jefferson paced around the room, which only now Killian noticed had a working table with what seemed to be a semi-constructed hat in the middle. “Because, for the last twenty-eight years, I’ve been stuck in this house. Day after day, always the same.” He tilted his head, pointing at Killian with his gun. “Until one night,  _ you _ , in your little yellow Bug, roll into town, and the clock ticks, and things start to change.” 

Killian clenched his jaw at the condescending tone, but tried to remain calm. This was not the moment to play a reckless hero type, not when Jefferson was pointing his gun at him. Jefferson lowered his gun, but his eyes never left Killian’s. 

“You see… I know what you refuse to acknowledge, Killian. You’re special.” Killian’s hair at the nape of his neck started to rise in a mix of panic and revulsion. “You brought something precious to Storybrooke –  _ magic _ .”

_ Aye, that was creepy.  _ “You’re bloody insane.” 

“Because I speak the truth?”

Killian resisted the urge to snort. “The truth? You’re talking about  _ magic _ .” This night had taken a turn for the nonsensical.

Jefferson took a few steps closer and Killian resisted the urge to take a step back. He wasn’t going to be intimidated by this man.  “I’m talking about what I’ve  _ seen _ . Perhaps,  _ you’re _ the one that’s mad?”

“You really think so, mate?” Killian pointed between the two of them. “That out of the two of us, I’m the one that is not in his senses?” 

“What’s crazier than seeing and not believing? Because that’s exactly what you’ve been doing since you got to our little hamlet.”

“Seeing  _ what _ ?”

Jefferson opened his hands and motioned around. “Open your eyes. Look around. Wake up. Isn’t it about time?”

It was clear this man completely deranged and if Killian didn’t play it smart, he and Mary Margaret wouldn’t make it out of there alive. He needed to keep calm, assess his surroundings and find a way to get himself and Mary Margaret out of there safely. Taking a deep breath, Killian pinched the bridge of his nose. “What do you want from me?” 

That seemed to do the trick. Jefferson smiled and pointed at a chair next to the working table.  “I want you to get it to work.” He motioned for Killian to take a seat, and he complied, his eyes focusing on the sewing supplies and the unfinished hat beside them.  “You’re the only one that can do this. You’re going to get it to work.”

_ What the bloody hell? _

Still holding the gun, Jefferson placed a piece of fabric in front of Killian. He then walked over and took a seat in front of him. “Make one like that.”

Killian’s eyes darted from the hat on the table to the abundance of hats around him. “ You want me to make a hat? Don’t you have enough of those?” he dared to ask, careful not to jostle the lunatic currently pointing a gun at him.  _ Much _ . 

“Well, none of them work, do they? Or else you wouldn’t be here. Now, make a hat, and get it to work.”

“Make it work?” Jefferson sounded like a mad version of one of the hosts on that designer show and Killian was beyond confused. “Make it work doing what?”

“You have magic. You can do it.”

_ What the actual fuck? _

“I don’t have magic-” Killian started and then his eyes focused once again on the room, his mind frantically connecting the dots. “The hats, the tea, your erratic tendencies. Bloody hell, you think you’re the Mad Hatter.”

Jefferson tilted his head and shifted in his chair uncomfortably. “My name’s Jefferson.”

_ And Snow White is tied up in the other room.  _ Clearly, somehow, this mental lunatic had gotten wind of Henry’s theory and built himself a persona to fit into the story. 

“Listen, mate,” Killian started carefully, fidgeting with the elements on the table. “You’ve clearly glommed onto my lad Henry’s thing.” He took a deep breath, his eyes focusing on the other man. “They’re just stories. The Mad Hatter is in Alice in Wonderland – a book. A book I actually read.” It was one of Emma’s favorites and he remembered scrapping for loose change to buy her a gently used copy from a flea market stand. She’d read it to him every night for weeks, the pages becoming thinner and thinner each day. Much like her, the book vanished when he went to jail.  

“Stories.  _ Stories? _ ” Jefferson’s voice brought him back from the memories that had assaulted him. “What’s a story? When you were in high school, did you learn about the Civil War?”

_ I didn’t stay in high school that long, mate.   _ But Killian wasn’t about to spill his secrets to the man in front of him. “Aye, of course.” 

“How? Did you read about it, perchance, in a book? How is that any less real than any other book?”

The man had a point there, or at least he thought he had one. “History books are based on history.”

Jefferson scoffed. “And storybooks are based on what? Imagination? Where does that come from? It has to come from somewhere.” He sighed, his hand pointing the gun upwards. “You know what the issue is with this world? Everyone wants some magical solution for their problems, and yet everyone refuses to believe in magic.”

“I never wanted a magical solution…” Killian retorted, the words somehow escaping him. It was true, he never did. All he’d ever wanted was to find Emma and try to live their life together.  If it there had been magic, if he could have turned back time to that fateful night...  but no, even if… he supposed there was a steep price to pay. And one shouldn’t tamper with fate like that.

“Then that makes you an exception.” Jefferson pointed at the hat. “Now, get it to work.” 

“Here’s the thing, Jefferson – this is it. This is the real world” Killian said, his hand holding what could very well be the tiniest pair of scissors in the world.

Jefferson stood up and leaned on the table to face him. “ _ A _ real world. How arrogant are you to think yours is the only one? There are infinite more. You have to open your mind. They touch one another, pressing up in a long line of lands. Each just as real as the last. All have their own rules. Some have magic, some don’t. And some  _ need  _ magic. Like this one. And that’s where you come in. You and your friend are not leaving here, until you make my hat.” He grabbed a larger pair of scissors and handed them to Killian. “Until you get it to work.” 

Killian started tearing the fabric apart with the scissors, desperately seeking a way to use them to his advantage. “ And then what?” 

“Then I go home.”

  
/-/

Killian worked relentlessly for what felt like hours but none of what he did seemed to change anything on the bloody hat in front of him. 

“I can’t make it work.” He said frustrated, throwing the hat on the table. “What you’re asking me is impossible.”

“No! It has to be.” Jefferson had pocketed the gun at his back and was now inspecting the hat with both hands. “If it’s not, I’m never going home. I’ll be cursed to live in this house forever.”

Killian could think of one or two worse fates than this and couldn’t help his next words. “What is so cursed about your life, mate? Look at this place. It’s  _ beautiful _ . I know a lot of people who’d loved to live in such a cursed place.”

The barb seemed to hit Jefferson fair and square. He paced the room until he was facing the window, next to the telescope.  “It’s cursed because, like everyone else here, what I love has been ripped from me. Take a look.”  He gestured for Emma to look through the telescope. Killian bent and focused his eyes. This time, instead of the Sheriff’s Station, he saw a suburban house, the curtains left open to reveal a little girl and her family eating dinner at home. “Her name is Grace,” Jefferson said and Killian lifted his head to meet the man’s conflicted eyes. “Here, it’s Paige. But it’s Grace.  _ My _ Grace. Do you have any idea what it’s like to watch her, day in and day out, happy, with a new family? With a new father?” 

The pieces of the puzzle finally fit together for Killian and he had to fight the dread that was fast enveloping him. “You think she’s your daughter?”

Jefferson gave him a fierce stare. “I don’t think – I know.  I  _ remember _ . She has no idea who I am. Our life together, where we come from. I do.  _ That’s my curse. _ ”

_ I remember _ .  The same words as Graham. Only this time they involved a minor being the target of a deranged man. Killian swallowed hard and let Jefferson continue.

“What good is this house, these things, if I can’t share them with her?” 

He measured his words carefully, trying to assess Jefferson’s obsession. Was he crazy enough to take the girl and harm her? “If you really think she’s your daughter, why don’t you reach out to her? Why don’t you tell her?”

Jefferson’s cold stare almost made Kilian recoil. “And destroy her reality? I’m trapped by knowledge. How cruel do you think I am? You think I’d inflict that awareness on my daughter? It’s hard enough to live in a land where you don’t belong. But knowing it, holding conflicting realities in your head…will drive you mad. Would you do that to  _ your  _ child?”

No, he wouldn’t. If Henry were really happy and healthy and safe, he’d been out of this town the next day, letting him live in peace. But that wasn’t the point at the moment. 

“That’s why you want me to make the hat work, isn’t it? You just want to take Grace home – to  _ your _ world.” Killian chose his words carefully, the father instincts he didn’t even know he had in him until recently, kicking in full-force. 

“It’s the one world where we can be together… Where she’ll remember who I am.”

This had to stop. Killian had to stop it. It was one thing to have him or Mary Margaret in danger, but with a child and her family involved in this man’s delusions, Killian felt no remorse in resorting to any type of lie, deceit or trickery to get out of this situation and ensure everyone’s safety. He found himself one more time wishing Emma were here with him and he asked himself the same question he had every single time he’d found himself in dire straits. 

_ What would Emma Swan do? _

The answer came to his mind and the memories almost had him smiling… but now was not the time. He had a part to play. 

“I know what it’s like to be separated from your kid,” he started hesitantly, averting his eyes to buy himself more time.

Jefferson tilted his head to the side and studied him. “Yeah, you do, don’t you?”

“It can make you feel like you’re losing your mind.” 

Jefferson stiffened and Killian winced internally. This was a false step. “I’m not losing my mind. I’m not crazy. This is real!”  

Killian racked his brain for the appropriate answer. “Maybe. Maybe, it is,” he sighed.  

“You believe?” Jefferson stood and faced him, a glint of hope in his eyes.  

_ Time to play the believer card… _

Killian swallowed. “If what you say is true, that woman in the other room is my mother. And I want to believe that more than anything in the world. ”The words came to him easily and Killian wondered how much of it was actually a lie. Maybe none of it at all. “So, maybe you’re right. Maybe, I need to open myself up more. Maybe, if I want magic, I have to start believing.”

“So, you’re… You’re going to help me? You can get it to work?”

Killian hoped the ruse would work. “I can try.” The moment  Jefferson turned around, looking for the hat, Killian grabbed the telescope and swung it round until it crashed into the back of Jefferson’s skull, knocking the man unconscious. He dropped the telescope and reached for Jefferson’s gun. 

“I’m bloody tired of this fairytale bullshit.”

He quickly darted towards the room where Mary Margaret was being kept. She screamed for him through the mouth gag and Killian removed it with as much care as he could in such a moment. 

“It’s alright, lass. I’m going to get us out of here.” He rushed to start removing the ties from her hands. “He won’t hurt you anymore.

“KILLIAN! LOOK OUT!” the scream reached him only a second before he felt someone pounce. He could only assume it was Jefferson. He struggled to break the hold the other man had on him, but it was almost like Jefferson was possessed. Killian lost his hold on the gun, and it fell onto the carpet. He launched himself after it and gasped at the force of Jefferson’s elbow digging into his neck. By gods, he was no stranger to fights, but he hadn’t been in one with such ferocity in ages. From the corner of his eye, he spotted a long scar around Jefferson’s neck. The sight made him lose his footing for a brief moment, landing on the floor. And it was enough for the other man to grab the gun first and pointed it at him. 

Jefferson gave him a sardonic smile as he put on that ridiculous hat and tilted his head to the side. “Off with his head.”

But whatever was supposed to come next never happened, as Mary Margaret hit the man from behind with what seemed to be a croquet mallet. As Jefferson struggled for balance, she kicked him, bearing a force Killian didn’t even know the lithe woman possessed, and the other man fell through the window. 

Panting, she turned around to face Killian. “Are you okay?” she asked.

He couldn’t articulate words as he hugged her fiercely, ensuring she was safe. Once they broke apart, they both peered through the broken window. Killian’s heart sank in his chest as he saw only broken glass and that bloody hat, lying abandoned on the grass. There was no sign of Jefferson. 

_ What in the blazes was going on with that man?  _

_ /-/ _

Killian grabbed his discarded leather jacket and he and Mary Margaret rushed downstairs, not willing to spend one more minute in that wretched place. It was already dawn as they left through the front door, Killian pushing Mary Margaret behind him, just in case Jefferson was waiting around to ambush them. But there was no sign of him, so he and Mary Margaret darted towards where the glass was scattered on the grass. 

“Who was he?” Mary Margaret asked. Her voice still showed hints of fear, but there was also pity and concern in it. Leave it to the woman to feel almost sorry for the man that had just held them captive.

“A very conflicted man,” Killian offered, not wanting to dwell too much on what Jefferson had confessed. Instead, he turned around and gave Mary Margaret an appreciative look. “Have you been taking personal defense classes? That was one hell of a kick.”

May Margaret almost blushed, a soft sigh escaping her lips. “I have no idea where that came from… it was probably a motherly need to protect you.” 

Killian groaned. “Not right now. I can’t take jokes about this… we almost got beheaded by a crazy man that believed he was the mad hatter.” Mary Margaret gave him a soft squeeze on his arm before she started walking towards the back of the house.

“Killian! Look” she said in a whisper, pointing to where his car was parked, covered by a tarp. After removing the cover, Killian sighed in relief at the sight of the keys dangling from the driver’s side door.  Quickly grabbing them, he turned around to find Mary Margaret looking sadly at him.

“So, Sheriff Jones, this is where you take me back to jail.”

Her words cut deep into him, slicing through his heart. He couldn’t do it. Not to her. It had to be her choice. And whatever it was, he’d stand by her. Carefully, he moved until he stood next to her and pressed the car keys into her hand.

“It’s your choice, lass.”

She raised her eyebrows in surprise. “Do you want me to run?”

“Gods, no, I really don’t. But it’s not about what _ I _ want. You have to make this choice, Mary Margaret. Just know - from personal experience - that once you start, it’s hard to stop. You’ll keep running, and there is nothing waiting for you at the end.”

She backtracked, her voice stammering. “There’s nothing here… they all think I killed her.” 

“I know,” he said softly, his throat closing from emotion. “And I know it’s hard because I’ve been failing left and right, but I need you to trust me. I’m going to get you out of this.”

“Why is this so important to you?” There was true curiosity in her eyes, as if she couldn’t believe he - someone - would care so much.

“Because when I first made it into this town and Regina did everything she could to shoo me away, you bailed me out without batting an eye. You trusted me. And when I wanted to give up on Henry again, you convinced me to stay and fight for my son.” He swallowed, resisting the urge to avert his eyes, and met her stare directly, pouring his heart for the first time in a decade. “Since the Joneses died I’ve been alone. I’ve always felt alone until I met Emma. When I lost her, everything was gone. All my walls were up again. There was no point in trying. But  _ you _ . You’re the first real friend I’ve made in my whole life.” He took a deep breath, his lips curving into a smile. “Crazy theories of curses aside - you feel like family to me. And I don’t want to lose that.”

Her eyes brimmed with unshed tears. “Family?”

It seemed Killian Jones wasn’t the only one tired of feeling alone. “You know what I mean.” He shrugged. “Don’t you want us to face this together? Let me be here for you.”

She pondered for a moment, though it felt like an eternity to him, and finally gave him back the keys. “You drive,” was all she said, but he didn’t need more. He pulled her into his arms for a brief hug before his mind finally started to think logically. 

“The arraignment will start soon. We need to get you back into that cell.”

/-/

Killian wished he could have stayed to see Regina’s face when Mary Margaret greeted her in her cell, but he knew it was best not to raise suspicions at this point. Besides, he didn’t have that big of a poker face and he wouldn’t be able to hide his smug smirk. So he made himself scarce the moment he ensured Mary Margaret was securely back behind bars. Instead, he took advantage of Regina being distracted by Mary Margaret to make his way over to the elementary school to see Henry.  

As he expected, his son was sitting on the bench by the front entrance, staring morosely into space. Killian sat down beside to him. “I found her,” he smiled softly. “She’s okay, or as much as she can be, considering she’s still being tried for murder.”

Whatever Henry was going to say got cut off by a little girl greeting him as she walked by. Killian’s heart sank in his chest as he recognized the little girl. She was the same girl Jefferson was obsessed with.

“Henry,” he asked, when the girl had gone, trying to mask the worry in his voice. “Who’s that?”

“Her name is Paige. She goes to school with me.”

It was madness, it was crazy. And yet….

“Can I see your book?” He didn’t have to ask if Henry had it with him, the lad had barely parted with the thing after getting it back. Henry nodded and pulled the book out of his backpack and handed it to him.

Killian scanned through the pages until he found an illustration of the Mad Hatter. He passed to the next one and he saw the same man with a little girl. The resemblance was uncanny and it might or it might not be Jefferson… and the little girl. 

“What is it?” Henry asked.

Killian sighed, running a hand through his hair. He was probably imagining things. He needed to go home, collapse in his bed and get a few hours of sleep. “Nothing,” he said, giving his son a weak smile. “I’m just battered, lad. I need to get some sleep.”

“I gotta go to school anyway,” Henry pointed out to the entrance at the same time the bell rang. Killian nodded, his eyes darting briefly from Henry to the book.

“Can I keep this for today?”

Henry’s eyes lit up with hope and Killian felt a tug at his belly. He didn’t want to give his son false hope. But Henry had already nodded and turned his back to him, halfway to the school entrance.

Killian watched him go, his fingers mindlessly caressing the illustrated pages.


	17. Chapter XVII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been very hard to continue this fic. With each chapter posted, I get multiple comments demanding where Emma is, from nice and exciting to plain insulting... calling the fic boring and saying that they skimming until Emma shows up. Others only demand for Emma to show up without one single word of acknowledgement over the thousand of words poured in each chapter about Killian and his journey. The last comment I got, someone demanded I fixed the error of Killian's characterization in the fic so he's more drastic like Hook and it's an enjoyable read. I don't know what to say to this anymore. Yes, this is a captain swan fic, but it's also a Killian centric. I wasn't planning to revisit all of season 1, but the idea of weaving in Killian in the season and seeing how he would react based on the background I gave him was something that inspired me. The idea of seeing him pine for Emma at each step, of her being present in his memories and in his heart, was something that inspired me. This is the fic I am writing... and to be honest, it doesn't differ from several other fics and S1 divergences in which Emma is the center of the story and they are still labeled as captain swan.  
> So, if you're here for a simple CS fic in which Killian is in the background and Emma is the lead, then this is not the fic for you. I'm writing this soul journey for Killian and I will get to Emma, when we get there. I would just ask in the meantime you'd be kind enough to refrain from posting hurtful and insulting comments over this fic. Or simply, if you don't like it anymore, stop reading.

The arraignment went as planned and the day passed without much novelty. Once again, Killian came back home to an empty loft, nothing but the feeling of failure to lull him to sleep at night. The loft had lost all its familiar warmth, leaving Killian to suffocate alone under the weight of his own shortcomings. Could anyone blame him for choosing to spend as little time as possible there? Just long enough to get the bare minimum hours of sleep his body needed, before escaping to either hang out with Mary Margaret at the station or drown his sorrows in rum at The Rabbit Hole.

His mornings were spent at Granny’s, where a hearty breakfast was always left barely eaten - he hadn’t much appetite for pancakes and bacon these days - and the hot chocolate always paled in comparison to Mary Margaret’s own recipe.

_Gods, he needed to get her out of the mess she was in._

Killian was entertaining those thoughts as he left Granny’s, closing the zipper of his winter leather jacket and pulling a beanie over his head, when David stepped into his path.

“Killian,” David started, but Killian wasn’t in the mood to talk to the other man.

“Get lost, mate,” he spat as he sidestepped David and moved towards his car. “I don’t have time for the likes of you.”

“No, I-I understand. It’s Mary Margaret. How’s she doing?”

Killian couldn’t believe the other man had the gall to ask. “About to be put on trial for the murder of _your wife._ How do you think she’s doing?”

“Killian, I didn’t mean - the last time we spoke, I don’t think she understood what I meant.” There seemed to be sincerity in David’s voice, but the sound of it only angered Killian even more.

“Please tell me you’re not implying she lacks intelligence, after you so clearly spelled out to her that you didn’t think she was innocent?”

David blushed in embarrassment. “It wasn’t like that-” he seemed to rethink his words when Killian cocked an eyebrow at him. “Look, it’s this situation. It’s been confusing and horrible for everyone. But, Killian, I don’t think she’s guilty. I need her to know that. But she doesn’t want to see me.”

Killian opened the car door. “Can you blame her? She trusted you and you broke that trust, over and over again.” He got into the front seat, ready for this conversation to be over. He didn’t have time to waste on men the likes of David Nolan. He met the other man’s eyes straight on as he delivered the final punch. “And the last thing she needs right now is being associated with you once again. You don’t deserve her.”

David recoiled at the last of his words, but he didn’t back down. “What does she need?”

“She needs a bloody miracle and for you to stay away from her. You’ve done enough damage to her reputation as it is.” He turned on the ignition, his tone filled with disdain. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.”

/-/

Killian stood by the jail cell door, his eyes looking incredulously at Gold after the man had presented his strategy to get Mary Margaret out of this mess. 

“A pre-trial interview with the prosecution?” He knew he shouldn’t have trusted the man. “I beg of you, Gold, please explain to me why this is such a good idea?”

“The D.A. merely wishes to ask Miss Blanchard a few questions.” Gold’s disdain for him was palpable, as if he his plans were entirely logical, and it was Killian who was failing to see reason.

“She’s done answering bloody questions,” Killian spat, his jaw clenching. Between Regina bursting into the station whenever she wanted, David’s hounding, and Gold being this obtuse, Killian was starting to regret not letting Mary Margaret drive away from this town in his car when she’d had the chance. “And why are we kissing up to the D.A. anyway?”

He refrained from asking why they weren’t going after Regina. If Gold had truly listened to him, the shop owner turned lawyer would have been on Regina’s tail already. But he wasn’t. It also seemed that Gold was reading his face at that moment, because the other man cocked an eyebrow at him.

“Just because you found the Mayor’s skeleton key in the cell, doesn’t mean we can prove Regina put it there, Sheriff. Unfortunately, we can’t go after Regina only with your hunch that she’s framing Miss Blanchard in here. We need proof that we don’t have.” He took a few steps toward the cell, his cane making a foreboding tapping against the floor. “I believe our best chance of winning this case is to employ our most valuable asset.” His eyes moved towards Mary Margaret.

“What’s that?” Mary Margaret asked eagerly, closing her cardigan against her chest.

“Well, that’s you, dear. A sweet, kind, elementary school teacher. Doesn’t exactly fit the prototype of a killer, now, does it?”

_Oh, for the love of God._

“You’re planning to get her out of this mess using her personality?”

“Perception is everything, Mr. Jones. As such, I’m sure you can imagine how the jury would perceive Miss Blanchard, if she agreed to cooperate with the District Attorney. These things engender trust. It shows the jury she’s at least trying.”

“First, it’s _Sheriff_ Jones. And second, do I need to point out we’re talking about the same townspeople that ran her through the wringer two weeks ago for her association with David Nolan?” He couldn’t believe the rubbish that was coming out of Gold’s mouth. Killian knew small towns, he knew them very well. They were petty and unforgiving, and the townspeople wouldn’t hesitate to demand Mary Margaret’s head on a pike just to make themselves feel superior.

Whatever justification Gold had for this nonsensical idea was interrupted when Killian had to deal with Sidney _bloody_ Glass barging into the station with a vase of flowers to “help brighten up the mood”. Killian directed Sidney to his office and listened to the man’s babblings about not being able to find something on Regina. He had dismissed the man’s help right after getting the phone records, but it seemed Sidney had taken it upon himself to continue investigating solo, and Killian had let the man do whatever he wanted to do. As long as he wasn’t interfering with his own investigation, he was content to let the man fight his own battles against Regina for whatever motive he had.

Killian went back to Mary Margaret and Gold the moment he dismissed Sidney. Mary Margaret met his stare directly.

“I’m going to do it. I’m going to talk to the D.A.”

Killian’s heart sank in his chest. “It’s not a good idea. Think about it.”

“I have. I _know_ I have nothing to hide, but no one else does. I need to let people see me for who I am.”

Killian didn’t think people would be willing to see it, but he had to respect her choice. He was the Sheriff, and one word out of line in here could get him challenged as interfering with the defense and being removed from the case altogether. He couldn’t risk that. He had to agree and hope this interview didn’t damage her in the end.

As he watched Mary Margaret being dragged through the mud by Albert Spencer, seeing her trapped by the man’s questioning, Killian couldn’t do anything but fist his hand to his side and clench his jaw, willing with all his might for her to remain calm.

But it didn’t work out and Mary Margaret lost her temper, putting herself exactly where Regina wanted her, if the woman’s satisfied smirk was any indication.

_He really hated this town sometimes._

Mary Margaret had failed. Killian had failed her. He was naive enough to put his truth in Gold, when clearly the man had no interest in helping. Which meant only one thing: Killian was alone in this, as usual.

_Trust no one, Hook_.

Once again, his Swan had always been right. He’d see to this. He would get Mary Margaret out of this, even if it meant breaking her out of jail, grabbing Henry and getting the hell out of this town.

/-/

Killian had been sitting at the docks for almost half an hour before he felt the drizzle and he pulled on his beanie to protect his hair from it as he pored over the book, desperate for any piece of information that could help save Mary Margaret. He was so caught up in his own search that he didn’t sense August’s presence until the man was standing right next to him.

“Whatever it is, I’m not in the mood, mate,” Killian growled, stuffing the book back into his messenger bag.

“Grasping at straws as you try to find a way to prove your friend was framed?” August’s smirk was not something Killian wanted to deal with at the moment. It seemed August could see that as well, because he sighed as he sat down beside to him. “What about that superpower of yours?”

“It seems it has abandoned me.” He wasn’t sure why he was letting his guard down and confiding in August, other than he was exhausted and out of the two people he could confide in, one was behind bars, and the other one was a ten-year-old that shouldn’t get more involved in this.

August was silent for a moment before he tilted his head. “Look, Killian, I know you don’t trust me-”

“Can you blame me?”

“No, but hear me out for a moment. It seems to me that you’re blocked. When I get struck by a block, I usually reread what I’ve done, rather than plow blindly ahead. It might be pertinent to do the same in this case.”

Killian thought about it for a moment. “You think I need to rethink my steps to see if there is a change in perspective?”

August smiled proudly as if Killian were catching on. “How did this all start?”

“With a missing person.”

“Have you found the person?”

“Just her heart.”

August didn’t seem struck by Killian’s harshness and kept on. “Would you have done anything differently that first time if you knew then what you know now?”

_Bloody hell, the ponce had a point._

Killian stood up abruptly. “I need to get to the crime scene.”

August trailed behind him. “I’ll take you.”

“Not on your life, Booth.” He hadn’t lowered his guard that much.

“Killian, you haven’t slept in days. You can barely stand up, and clearly you’re not thinking straight, considering you’re actually taking my advice without questioning it.”

August has a point there. Killian pointed to the passenger side of his car. “Hop in, you can come with me… that is my final offer.”

“Let me drive at least.”

“There’s no chance in hell you’re driving Emma’s car.”

August cocked an eyebrow at him but had the decency to remain silent as he opened the passenger door.

/-/

It felt like a short ride until they reached the crime scene by the Toll Bridge. Killian didn’t feel like talking much, choosing instead to rerun all the events related to the alleged kidnapping. Something was not adding up, not in the way everything was adding up so nicely in pointing to Mary Margaret. As self-absorbed as he was, Killian didn’t fail to notice the way August struggled to leave the car.

“Ruby found the box with the heart right over here, just by the shore,” Killian explained as he stepped down the incline, his eyes fixed on the terrain marked by yellow tape. He lifted his head and noticed August wincing in pain as he made his way down. “You okay there, mate?”

“It’s nothing. Just a shin splint.”

August was lying through his teeth, and Killian knew it. He also knew he didn’t care enough to press the other man about it. He waved his hand dismissively. “Fine, walk it off then, but be careful not to make a mess of my crime scene. I don’t need another problem in this case.”

August massaged his leg for a moment as he gave Killian a squinting look. “This is really hard on you, isn’t it?”

“She’s the closest thing to family I’ve got.” He didn’t mean the words to come out, not because he was ashamed of them, but because he still didn’t trust August as far as he could throw him. But it was the truth. After losing the Joneses first and later Emma, he had shut out the world. Besides Henry, Mary Margaret was the closest person in the world to him. It had been an unexpected bond, born out of loneliness and a need to belong from both sides, but he would lay down his life for her right now.  Pushing those thoughts aside, he occupied himself with retracing the steps on the crime scene. He crouched low to the ground and his fingers dug experimentally through the soil... It seemed fruitless and he was about to give up after a while when he felt an unfamiliar presence in the sand. Digging deeper, he pulled what seemed to be a metallic shard from very near where the jewelry box with the heart was found.

“What’s that?” August asked, his head tilting and squinting his eyes.

“A shard. It might be from a shovel,” Killian got up and showed August the metallic piece. “If someone was burying the box with a shovel, then it could have hit a rock and broke a piece off…”

“If we can find the shovel that it broke off of, you can prove that Mary Margaret didn’t bury the heart. You can prove that she’s innocent.”

It seemed August read the thoughts right out of his mind. Killian smirked at the other man. “I think I know where to look first.”

/-/

_“The eagle is in the nest, and the package is secure.”_

He knew involving Henry in this was a bad idea. “Give it straight to me, lad,” Killian said through his walkie-talkie.

“ _She’s getting in the shower and the keys are under the mat.”_

Signaling August to follow him, Killian retrieved the key from under the mat and made his way towards the shed. It was a nice structure and everything seemed to be in the proper place. Of course it would. It was Regina’s place after all. Even in a shed, that woman wouldn’t tolerate anything out of place. Killian pulled a small flashlight from his pocket and after ordering August not to touch a bloody thing, he took the time to conduct a thorough search.

As luck would have it, he found a shovel missing a piece that matched exactly the shard he currently had in a plastic evidence bag.

He and August exchanged a knowing look.

_Busted_.

/-/

It didn’t take long for Killian to get a search warrant. A phone call here, the magic appearance of an anonymous tip there and he was up bright and early the next morning, knocking on Regina’s door.

She wasn’t happy to see him, but Killian didn’t read much into it. Regina Mills was never happy to see him and a part of him couldn’t blame her for that. He had barged into her carefully constructed life, uninvited, and refused to be bullied into leaving. She would just have to deal with it.

“Can I help you, Sheriff Jones?” The way she could pronounce his law enforcement title as if it were something she’d had to scrape off the side of her shoe was an absolute talent. A talent Killian couldn’t care less about at the moment.

“I need you to unlock your garage for me, love.” Killian didn’t hide the innuendo from his voice. Anything to get a rise out of the woman standing in front of him.

Regina crossed her arms in front of her chest. “Why would I do that?”

He leaned in, grabbing the papers from his back pocket and handing them to her. “Because I have a warrant that says you actually have to.”

The was a slight tremble in her fingers as she reached for the warrant but it was soon gone as she looked through the papers. “On what grounds?”

He pulled the evidence bag. “I found this near where the heart was buried. It might be related to whoever buried it.”

“And what that does have to do with me?” She was starting to get annoyed with him, exactly where he wanted her.

“Last night I got an anonymous call from someone who said they saw you digging near the Toll Bridge the day the heart was found.”

Regina didn’t even flinch. “An anonymous call? I find that hard to believe.”

Killian took one more step, invading her personal space and lowering his voice as if he were letting in Regina on a secret. “You know, I don’t like this any more than you do, Madam Mayor. I’m sure that you have nothing to do with it… but I must follow procedure. We wouldn’t want anyone accusing me of tampering with this investigation, or Miss Blanchard’s defense pointing fingers at me for not following up on a possible lead?”

The sole mention of Mary Margaret’s name made Regina’s eyes narrow dangerously and Killian almost recoiled at the hatred he saw in them. But he held his ground and had the satisfaction of having her step away from him. He followed her to the shed and waited until she opened the door. Killian tried to play it nonchalantly, taking his time to search a thing here and there before moving to the place where he knew the shovel was.

His heart sank in his chest as he saw the shovel was gone. He was glad that his back was to Regina, so she couldn’t read his face at the moment.

“Everything okay?” she asked and Killian could read the satisfaction in her voice.

_She knew._

And Killian couldn’t confront her. He put on his best aloof smile and turned to face her. “Well, it seems I was played for a fool, but better to be safe than sorry don’t you think?” He hoped Regina didn’t have a lie-detector like his. “Well I better get back to the station and continue my search of who owns that shovel.”

“You won’t give up?”

“Someone was there, Miss Mills. I intend to find the culprit.”

“You already have her in custody, Mr. Jones.”

Killian clenched his jaw, fisting his hand at his side. He couldn’t lose his temper. Not now. He couldn’t show his hand. Regina took a step towards him.

“Miss Blanchard is a liar and a murderer. She needs to pay for what she’s done. That woman has destroyed the last life she is ever going to destroy.”

Killian couldn’t say anything after that, as the bile in Regina’s words took his breath away. That woman had an uncanny fixation with Mary Margaret and it was dangerous. Nodding, he made his way out of the shed and waited until he was in his car to bang the steering wheel in frustration.

Someone had warned Regina that he was coming for the shovel. And there was only one person who knew about this.

Emma probably would have slapped him for being such an idiot if she were here.

But she wasn’t. And he’d been played a fool once again by August.

/-/

Killian banged on August’s door and he didn’t even wait for the other man to open the door fully before he was shoving him further into the room.

“I can’t believe I trusted you again!”

“Whoa. Slow down. What happened?”

Killian wasn’t buying August act, not anymore. “The shovel was gone when I got there. Regina knew about it. And the only other person who knew about this was _you_.”

August’s eyes widened in shock. “Killian, I didn’t betray you. You have to know that.”

“I’ve been a fool, thinking that maybe, maybe, you had some sort of decency. But this one, this one is on me.” He fisted his hand to the side to the side and he finally delivered the punch that was a long time coming. A decade, actually.

August stumbled backwards, losing his balance and reaching for his aching jaw with disbelief in his eyes. But Killian Jones was past beyond caring about accusations of police brutality.

“We’re done, Booth. I suggest you leave this town, because the minute I ensure Mary Margaret is free -and I will ensure it- I’m coming after you with everything I have… and I have a lot. I’m the law here, so you’d better run and hide.”

He didn’t even bother to listen to any of the other man’s excuses as he turned around and left the room.

/-/

The next morning, Killian’s head was pounding heavily, a side effect of the half bottle he’d drank in silence in the loft, letting the darkness envelop him. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept properly, but he had an inkling it was before everything went to hell with Mary Margaret and David.

His vision was almost blurry as he witnessed Mary Margaret being cuffed and escorted out of the jail cell and into the town hall for her trial. Her eyes were distant, her face a pale mask that didn’t let any feelings show. It was disturbing to see that expression on her, on the woman who seemed to wear her heart on her sleeve. That, more than anything, broke Killian’s heart. She only had the briefest of smiles to gift him before they took her away and his eyes followed her until she left the room.

Gold just stood there, his eyes meeting Killian’s for a moment, before he left the station. Killian didn’t even have the strength to call the other man on his bullshit.  He couldn’t believe Mary Margaret was at his mercy, he couldn’t believe he’d been so desperate as to trust in the snake oil August and Gold had sold him.

_Fuck this town. Fuck these people._

He picked up Sidney’s hideous arrangement and threw the vase against the file cabinet, his breathing coming in hard pants as he fought back the tears coming to his eyes, feeling as helpless as he’d done when Emma’s letter reached him in jail. It was as he was bent over his desk, resisting the urge to thrash the entire office that his eyes noticed the little black device in the middle of the mess on the floor.

He carefully lifted it up, but it didn’t need a lot of examination. He knew exactly what it was. A bloody bug. Which could only mean one thing.

He owed Booth a bloody apology.

/-/

Killian found Booth leaving Granny’s, which at least saved him climbing up the stairs you reach his room or tracking him down.

“Booth.” His tone wasn’t the most forthcoming or amiable, but Killian hadn’t had the best week of his life. It still wasn’t the worse, but close.

August gave him a sideway glance. “If you’re coming for round 2, I’m not in the mood, Killian.” His hand rubbed against his jaw and Killian could see the slight bruising there.

He held up his hands in a peaceful manner. “No punches, I promise. I just-” he tried, but he couldn’t the words out.

“What?”

Killian took a deep breath and manned up. “Sidney bugged my office. That’s how Regina found out about the shovel.” He met August stare and held it for a second. “This still doesn't make it right between us…” Too much had happened between him and August and even if the man hadn’t lied this time, it didn’t make it all good in Killian’s book.

August nodded, contemplating Killian’s words. “I suppose not much will… other than bringing Emma back to you.”

A scream pierced the air and Killian’s blood froze in his veins. He’d heard that scream before. “Ruby!” he called desperately as he moved to the side of the diner, following the scream. Ruby showed up before his eyes, panting, screaming and crying at the same time, horror on her face. Killian couldn’t help but feel this must have been exactly how she looked when she found the heart.

“Are you okay? What happened?” he asked as he reached out for her, his hands on her shoulders, keeping her steady.

“The alley, in the alley,” was all Ruby could manage between sobs.

Pulling out his gun, Killian turned to August. “Stay with her!”

Carefully, he made his way towards the alley. His eyes scanned the place but he didn’t see anyone, not until his eyes looked down and he saw the figure, lying on the ground.

Was it a corpse?

Pocketing the gun, he moved towards the body and slowly crouched down. It seemed like a woman and Killian was startled when she moved slightly. He slowly helped the woman into a sitting position. “Are you okay?”

His heart sank in his chest as he found Kathryn Nolan’s eyes staring back at him.

_She was alive._


	18. XVIII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for your heartwarming and encouraging comments in the last chapter. They really made a difference. I am writing this fic for me, because this was something I fell in love with, but seeing others enjoying it and recognizing has helped a lot.

The rest of the day was hectic. Killian had to call an ambulance and then go with Kathryn to the hospital. She was in shock, and barely a word out of her mouth made any sense before she vanished into the care of a phalanx of health care professionals. Whale and his team told him that there will be a while until they were able to properly assess her state. Killian could either kill the time in the waiting room or he could put a few other things into action in the meantime. Deciding there were other important things to do, he asked Whale to call when Kathryn was stable and ready to talk.

As if the devil were nipping at his heels, he ran back to the station. In the turmoil, Mary Margaret had been taken back to the station to await further news. Killian dismissed the court officers and then broke Mary Margaret free from her cell. He didn’t wait for any other order, he would take the fall if needed, but he couldn’t bear the sight of her into that cell one more minute. After a long hug where he felt the life coming back to him, he asked her to go to the loft and stay there. He knew it wasn’t ideal, but Mary Margaret seemed to agree that it wasn’t proper to start parading around town. Not just yet.

After sorting out a few things with the judge and the DA, Killian made it back to the hospital to talk to Kathryn. She was awake and being assessed by Whale. Killian knocked politely on the edge of the glass door and let himself in.

“Sheriff Jones,” Whale greeted him. “Look who’s awake.”

Killian gave Kathryn what he hoped was a warming smile. “It’s good to see you’re doing better. I know you probably need to rest, but I need to ask you a few questions about what happened. Do you remember anything?”

Kathryn crumpled her forehead as if trying to force memories out of her mind. “I don’t know much. Um, I was in a car accident, and…I remember the airbag going off. And the next thing I knew, I was in the dark, in some basement. I didn’t see anyone, but there was food and water. And then, I guess I was drugged.”

Killian tried to remain calm, but he couldn’t help the bile rising to his throat, his own memory remembering painful anecdotes from the system, ones that he either experience in the flesh or were told to him, lonely whispers in the dead of the night. Trying hard to avoid his own demons, he turned to Whale.

“We’re still trying to flush that out of her system,” Whale confirmed, with a gentle smile. It seemed he was capable of being a decent human being around a female after all.

Kathryn took a deep breath. “And then, I woke up in a field at the edge of town, and I started walking. That was it.”

“Did you see anyone? Hear a voice you can recognize? A smell? Anything?” Killian ventured.

Kathryn’s eyes filled with despair. “Nothing, I’m sorry. I wish I could help more.” Her eyes turned from Killian to Whale. “You thought I was dead?”

“We found a heart buried in the woods. Your DNA matched.” Both he and Kathryn turned their eyes to Whale.

“They’re grilling everybody down at the hospital lab to see who doctored the DNA results.” Whale looked uncomfortable and averted his eyes.

Ah yes. The lab. They had a lot of explaining to do after that one, and Killian had already given someone an earful over the phone. If Kathryn hadn’t turned up when she did, Mary Margaret would have gone through hell. Well, she already had, but it could’ve been worse. It could’ve been permanent.

“Why would anyone do this?” Kathryn asked with concern in her features.

“I think they were trying to frame Mary Margaret.” Killian left behind the rest of his thoughts. The last thing he needed was for Kathryn to hold more resentment against the other woman by realizing she’d been a pawn in someone else’s game.

“But why?”

She seemed genuinely puzzled about being mistaken for dead, and right now, she was horrified about someone framing Mary Margaret for it. Not an ounce of her seemed to hint at the fact that Mary Margaret deserved it, which ruled out Kathryn being an accomplice in anything. Killian could see that whatever the affair with David was… it was clear that Kathryn had decided to move on the moment she’d packed her bags and decided to go to Boston.

_Good for her._

“Who would do that?” Kathryn asked, almost to herself.

Killian could only think of one person, but a part of him still refused to believe it. That was the adoptive mother of his son. To even think….

But right now, he wouldn’t think about it. Not today. Work could wait one day. Killian had other things to do.

/-/

Killian didn’t expect many people to come over to Mary Margaret’s welcome home party and yet the place was swarming with people. He should have known Storybrooke would be like any other small town, filled with fickle bastards that flipped like pancakes once the news was out. Killian tried very hard to mask his contempt - for Mary Margaret’s sake - as he helped her pour cups of punch.

“All of these people… Just to welcome me home?” Mary Margaret seemed surprised and almost hesitant at the crush of people crowding her loft.

“You’ve got a lot of friends,” Killian offered with a quizzical smile, not wanting to lie to her but also trying to keep his thoughts to himself.

“Yeap, they all came to visit me in jail,” Mary Margaret deadpanned, her eyes surveying the crowd. “It didn’t feel like the town had my back yesterday.”

Killian poured the last cup of punch. “Don’t worry, darling. I have a special batch of spiked punch for ourselves, to help us endure this.” He handed Mary Margaret the tray as he noticed Booth talking to Henry. The hair on the back on his neck stood at the sight, it was not a good thing to have August lurking around his son. He made his way towards them as Mary Margaret distributed punch to the guests and the moment Henry darted towards her with a gift and a card, Killian took advantage of the opportunity. He leaned and whispered ruthlessly.

“You’re not welcome here, mate.”

“But I thought after the other day...”

“Doesn’t change anything. It’s my house, Booth. Get out before we make a scene and ruin Mary Margaret’s first day out of jail.”

Kilian turned around, not bothering to give August more attention than needed, and focused on Henry delivering a present to Mary Margaret. Her eyes warmed as she opened the massive handmade card, but her expression soon turned confused as she read the card. “We’re so glad you didn’t kill Mrs. Nolan…”

_Well, Henry clearly had Emma’s tact._

Henry seemed oblivious to this, as he presented her with a wrapped gift. “It’s from the whole class, and I got you a bell.”

“Thank you,” Mary Margaret took the package from him. “Please tell everyone I’ll be back soon.”

Assuaged that Henry was now conversing with Mary Margaret and that Booth was on his way to retrieve his jacket, Killian focused his attention on the other person in the room he wasn’t thrilled to see.

“Sheriff Jones,” Gold saluted him, leaning on his cane, as Killian approached him.

“I’m going to cut to the chase, Gold, as I’m tired of the games.” Killian crossed his arms over his chest and tilted his head to the side. “Was it you?”

Gold had the audacity to play the innocent and confused part but Killian wasn’t buying it. Leaning closer, he pressed. “Did you make Kathryn suddenly materialize?”

“You really think I had something to do with it?”

Killian shrugged. “It sure played that way to me.”

Gold pondered his words for a moment and then simply dismissed them. “You can’t prove anything, Sheriff, and you know by now that it wouldn’t be in anyone’s best interests to start spewing false accusations. I might be tempted to file a complaint.” He gave Killian a crooked smile. “But I’m willing to let it slide if you answer me a question- what do you know about him?” He pointed his cane at August’s retreating form.

_Just what he needed._

“Goes by August. He’s a writer. Typewriter wrapped in an enigma, wrapped in an asshole. Why?”

“He was poking around my shop today. _August Wayne Booth_. Clearly a false name. There’s one thing I know about – it’s names.”

Great, now August was snooping into Gold’s business. Killian could only wish it ended badly for one of them. _Or both._ But he’d be so lucky.

“Do you want to file a complaint, Mr. Gold?” His tone was filled with sarcasm. “Feel free to stop by the station tomorrow and I’ll see what I can do for you.”

Clearly, Gold wasn’t impressed by him. “Do you trust him?”

Killian chuckled. “As much as I trust _you_ … which is not at all. Let me be clear, Gold, the only people I trust in this town are Mary Margaret… and my son.”

He took a few steps back, turning to find Henry. “Henry!” he called. “Let’s get you home before Regina finds out you were here.”

_And before I punch Gold._

Henry hugged Mary Margaret goodbye and grabbed his things. Killian opened the door, only to find David standing on the other side. One quick glance at Mary Margaret, a quickly mouthed name and a vehement shake of her head were enough for Killian to know how to proceed.

“You’re not welcome here, mate.” It was Killian’s lucky day. He got to tell both August and David off.

“I just want to-” David started but Killian cut him off with a ruthless stare.

“You’ve done enough. Just honor her wishes and leave her alone.” He noticed Henry’s sad face, but Killian wasn’t going to buy into that one anymore. If David was Prince Charming, Mary Margaret’s hero, he would have fought for her. And he hadn’t.

“Come on, Henry, let’s go,” he motioned as he closed the door behind them and sidestepped David.

/-/

The next morning, with Mary Margaret sleeping safe and sound in her own bed and free from all the charges fabricated against her, Killian was finally able to focus on following the thread of facts and tracking down the true culprits.

Whoever it was who had framed his friend - and he had a pretty good idea whom that might be - he was going to find enough evidence to put them behind bars.

Which meant that Killian needed to start by the weakest link. And he knew exactly where to find him.

As predicted, Sidney Glass was sitting in a booth at Granny’s, enjoying his morning cup of coffee. The man was a creature of habit and Killian had already pinpointed most of them during the months he’d spent living in Storybrooke. He wouldn’t have been a very good bailbondsman - or sheriff - if he hadn’t.

Killian approached the table with a little swagger, taking the seat opposite Sidney and giving the man his most vicious stare.

“Good morning, Sidney.”

A part of him rejoiced in how the reporter flinched at his vindictive tone. Killian Jones wasn’t here to play games, and Sidney knew it.

“Killian, hey,” Sidney tried to deflect, using a friendly tone while fidgeting with his coffee mug. “So, things certainly did work out, didn’t they? For… For your friend?”

_No thanks to you._

“First of all, it’s Sheriff Jones.” His tone made Sidney pulled back slightly and Killian was really enjoying it. “You told me you could help with Mary Margaret and idiot that I was, I wanted to believe you.” He pulled out the broken wire tap and placed it on the table. “But, eventually, there are things that even a naïve Sheriff cannot ignore.”

Sidney stiffened for a brief moment before he tried to play dumb. “Is that a bug?”

“Drop it, mate.” Killian had zero patience left for people like Sidney. “You fooled me once, spying on me and reporting back to Regina. But you will not fool me again. I don’t know what hold she has on you, but it sure has to be huge for you to dance to the beat of her drum.”

“She’s a good Mayor.”

Killian chuckled. If that was what Sidney wanted to claim…. “She tried to get Mary Margaret convicted of a crime that didn’t even happen. Someone tampered with this investigation and you, my friend, could possibly be in a lot of trouble. There is a trail somewhere out there on the outskirts of town and I’m going to find that basement. And when I do, I’m taking everyone down. _Everyone_. You might want to consider whose side you’re on.”

“I wouldn’t bet against her. She’s an amazing woman.”

There was a note in Sidney’s words that made Killian shiver. He couldn’t believe it. “Are you in love with her, Sidney? Is this why you’re so keen on helping her?”

He sighed, running his hand through his hair as he stood up. “You know, I can understand loving someone so much that you’re willing to lay it all on the line for her. Trust me, I do.” His eyes closed for a brief moment as images of Emma teased at the edges of his vision. “But here’s the thing, mate. She’s only worth all of this if she feels the same way about you. Otherwise, she’s just using you. Like she used Graham.”

He left the diner, hoping Sidney was thinking long and hard about what he’d said. His mind was racing, his heart beating frantically in his chest. He wanted to respect Regina and her adoption rights, but something was boiling inside of him, something we couldn’t quite yet put a name on.

/-/

The day went by in a blur and evening found him waiting for Mary Margaret to arrive at the loft, a poor excuse of a homemade dinner of roasted beef and potato salad that he’d put together following the instructions from a cookbook he’d found on one of the shelves. It wasn’t perfect - the roast looked slightly toasted or rather burnt at the edges and he wasn’t sure the potatoes were properly cooked - but he waited for his friend with a beaming smile and a couple of beers.

But when Mary Margaret arrived, looking as if she’d been crying and holding a newly purchased rum bottle, he knew it was bad. The quality of the dinner long forgotten, he started pouring as they both sat at the kitchen counter, picking at the food and downing drinks. It was about David - of course it was about that bloody idiot. But Mary Margaret had found the strength within her not to take him back simply because he’d apologized. She’d stood up for herself, realizing that she deserved better than a guy who’d turned his back on her when the going got rough.

Granted, it was a very rough patch, but still… if he’d really trusted her, if he’d really loved her, he would have stood by Mary Margaret. Killian knew with all his heart that if it had been Emma in Mary Margaret’s place and he in David’s, no matter what the evidence, he wouldn’t have hesitated. He would have believed in Emma, no questions asked. He wanted the same for Mary Margaret - hell, even Sidney was more loyal to Regina than David had been - and he made sure to let her know that as they both washed down the last of the potato salad with their third tumbler of rum.

/-/

The hangover headache was a killer and his head was pounding heavily as he entered the station the next morning. The sight of Regina sitting on a desk, her panty-hose clad legs crossed one over another, made him groan internally. He didn’t want to deal with this today. But alas, there was no respite for the sheriff.

“Madam Mayor,” he saluted with just the right amount of sarcasm to make her feel uneasy. “Please make yourself at home.”

She ignored his remark, her eyebrow raising. “Congratulations, Sheriff Jones. There’s about to be a big break in your case. You just got yourself a confession. But first, I want you to listen to the whole explanation, so you understand why this happened.”

He didn’t like the sound of any of that. His headache soon forgotten, Killian took a few steps toward her. He wasn’t as naive as to think she was going to confess to having anything to do with setting Mary Margaret’s up. Not at all. Regina Mills wasn’t the type. She was up to something. He just needed to figure out what it was soon enough for him to stage a counter-attack.

“I’m waiting with bated breath, milady.”

She stood up from the desk, her high heels clicking against the tiled floor, her eyes never leaving his. “Sidney, you can come in now.”

Killian turned to witness the man entering the room, his eyes cast down as he refused to meet Killian’s gaze.

“Tell him what you told me,” Regina pressed and Killian’s heart beat frantically. He was starting to get a hint as to where this was going and he didn’t like it one bit.

“It was me. I confess. I abducted Kathryn, and I held her in the basement of an abandoned summer home by the lake. I bribed a lab tech to get me the heart from the hospital, and I used that same person to doctor the lab results,” Sidney recited as if the words didn’t belong to him.

Killian pondered for a second the information he was hearing, but he didn’t have time to reply before Regina interjected. “And the other thing.”

Sidney cleared his throat. “I…borrowed some skeleton keys from Regina and…planted the knife in your apartment.”

_Bloody hell. She had him by the balls._

“My keys. Can’t help but feel personally violated about that part.”

Only one thought went through Killian’s head. _What did she have on Sidney?_

“Why?” he rasped, his eyes moving from Sidney to Regina. “What reason would you have to do any of this?”

“I was going to find her after the conviction, be a hero. Then, get the inside track on the biggest story to ever hit this town. I’d get my job back. Plus, a novel, and a movie, and… I don’t know. It sounds crazy now.”

“It sounds like you’re lying, mate.”

Sidney breathed deeply. “I have maps to where the house is. You’ll find chains in the basement. Lots of fingerprints, I’m sure – hers and mine. But, I didn’t hurt her.” The vehement tone in which he delivered the last line was Killian’s final clue on this. He was willing to take the blame, but there were certain morals the man wasn’t willing to surrender.

“The man has obviously suffered some kind of mental break. He clearly hasn’t been himself for a while,” Regina went on as if Killian had actually bought this nonsensical bullshit.

“Aye. You’ve certainly broken him, alright.” He couldn’t help himself and truth to be told, he didn’t want to.

Regina stiffened, her eyes focused on his. “You’re so caught up in yourself, Jones, you can’t see the truth.”

If only. He could see the truth, as if the fog had lifted, he could see it. And he was tired of this game.

“A word in the hallway, Mayor Mills.” Killian started walking, not even bothering to wait and see if Regina was following. He’d heard the distinct sound of her heels on the tiled floor a few second later. Once in the hallway, he turned around to face her.

“You have a confession, Sheriff. You’re obligated to do your job,” Regina cocked an eyebrow defiantly at him.

Killian tilted his head, his mind running through all the truths he wanted to spit in Regina Mills’ face. Truths he knew wouldn’t do any difference… Words that were not going to make a dent in the woman standing behind him.

He didn’t hold the winning hand and yet, he knew he couldn’t leave the game yet. So he asked himself the one question that always helped him see clearly.

_What would Emma Swan do?_

The answer came clearly to him and he took a few steps towards Regina. “I know you own the game, lady, and that chances are you own this town. Either you or Gold or a combination of the two, and I couldn’t care less, as long as you didn’t interfere with what I hold dear. But you decided to go after the people I care about.”

Her eyes flashed with danger. “Are you threatening me, Sheriff?”

“Not at all. But you’re so blinded by rage that you don’t care who gets hurt in the process. And it’s time I put a stop to this. You’re not getting near Henry again… I lost his mother, I will not let anything happen to him. I don’t care who you are, I don’t care about the papers that have been signed, I don’t care about anything.” He took a deep breath, standing dangerously close to the woman that was currently representing a danger to his son wellbeing. “I’m getting back my son.”

_I’m getting back Emma’s son._

  



End file.
